Hummelberry in the Big Apple
by whitesheepcbd
Summary: Drabble series, focusing on Rachel's and Kurt's life together in NYC. Will probably feature Santana in future chapters. Not necessarily in chronological order. Some drabbles are reactions to episodes, some are totally unrelated to canon.
1. New Roommate

"Maybe you should move out and find a new roommate."

Easy for Kurt to say, Rachel thought. He wasn't here, in New York City all alone. He was still home in Lima where everything was small and narrow-minded, but also safe and familiar.

"Turn around," his voice through the phone requested.

Perplexed, she turned her head and caught a glimpse, through the spray of the fountain, of a familiar figure in a suit. Her heart leapt before she even fully processed what she was seeing, the poofed-up hair, the smile, the straight posture and the striped strap of the messenger bag over his shoulder. She froze, caught on an edge between hope and disbelief, as he raised his hand in a wave. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry, and suddenly realized she was doing both as she ran around the fountain and threw herself at him.

She buried her face in his shoulder as he lifted her off the ground. It wasn't their usual style to be this physically affectionate, but this felt like being hugged by HOME. It was the closest to home she'd been since her dads had visited a month ago, and watching them go had nearly killed her. The knot in her stomach loosened, as she realized that she wasn't alone anymore. Not alone.

Her feet touched the ground again and she loosened her grip.

"I can't believe you're here. Are you staying, Kurt? Did you mean it, that we can be roommates?" she asked breathlessly as she held his face in her hands.

"Yes, I'm staying. And yes, if you want us to be," he answered with a wide grin.

"More than anything," she said as she hugged him again. "I can't tell you what hell it's been, rooming with the Whore of Babylon." She finally took her arms from around his neck, wiping at her tears. She laughed, and then realized tears were still falling, wiping at them again.

"You okay?" Kurt asked, looking at her with concern. He reached into his bag and produced a travel pack of tissues.

"I….." She tried to think of a way to explain. "I'm better, now that you're here. But it's been so hard, Kurt. I haven't had anyone to talk to, I can't get the sleep I need, my classes are grueling and I just…..I never knew being in a city of millions could be so lonely," she finished, letting out an exhale that almost turned into a sob. She dabbed at her face with the tissue.

"Come on," Kurt said, slinging an arm across her shoulders. "Do you have a favorite coffee shop yet?"

"Not an absolute favorite, but I know one near here."

"You and I are going to sit down with coffee, and talk. It'll all be better, you'll see."

She reciprocated with an arm around his waist, and tried to match her pace to his longer strides as they strolled out of the park, gawking for a moment at a toy poodle whose fur had been died pink. They managed to make it across busy Columbus Circle intact, then walked a couple blocks to a small coffee shop.

They settled at a table in the back corner, where it was relatively quiet at this mid-afternoon hour. They sipped for a moment, eyeing each other with quiet smiles.

"I can't believe you're here," Rachel said finally, setting her cup down. "I know you said you were going to re-audition for next semester, but what made you decide to come now?" She waited while he studied his cup silently, running his finger around the lid.

"I couldn't stay in Lima for another minute," he answered, still looking down. "I kept trying to tell myself that it wouldn't be so bad to stay for another year, that at least I wouldn't have to leave Blaine, and we could come together next year after he'd graduated. But…..I just couldn't do it," he shrugged.

"And what about Blaine?" she asked softly.

"I nearly changed my mind when we said goodbye. But he was the one who gave me the final push I needed, told me to go." His smile was bittersweet.

"Sounds like someone else I know," she replied, and could hear outright bitterness in her own voice. "Did he take you to the train station and practically shove you on board, with no warning?"

"Umm….no. He sang a song to me in the courtyard at McKinley. Look, Rachel-" He leaned forward and reached out for her hand, which she let him hold. "Finn was trying to do the right thing for you, for both of you. He put you on that train because he didn't want to hold you back. And we all know the discipline of the Army could do him some good."

She took her hand back and crossed her arms, knowing she probably looked like a petulant child but not really caring at the moment. "And did he have any idea how much it would hurt me, to be dumped on my wedding day, shipped off with no warning?"

He gave her a look, the one she recognized as 'don't try that with me' and her frustration kicked up a notch. "You and I both know that the entire Glee Club wouldn't have been enough to manhandle you onto that train if you truly didn't want to go. The final choice was yours, Rachel, just like it always was. Did you ever stop to ask yourself how hard it was for Finn?"

"Not so hard he couldn't do it," she muttered, looking down into her lap.

"Rachel, look at me," she heard before reluctantly raising her head to meet her friend's direct gaze. "You didn't see him after you left. He was wrecked. He didn't want to lose you, but he knew he couldn't keep you there just for him."

She stayed silent, all the 'buts' racing through her head that she didn't voice because none of it made a difference now.

"Can you honestly tell me, even with all the problems you've had adjusting here, that you'd rather be back in Lima?" Kurt asked softly.

She sighed before admitting, "No. I love it here, in spite of everything. I've known since Nationals our junior year, that this is where I belong."

"And Finn knew that too. Putting you on that train may have been the single most mature thing he's ever done in his life."

She sipped her coffee, giving herself a moment. She'd told herself those same things many times, and her dads had told her that they wanted to see her follow her dreams in New York rather than get married so young. It didn't change how much it hurt, but now, all these months later, she was starting to understand that maybe Finn had had his reasons for sending her away.

Her musings were interrupted by the buzzing of Kurt's cell phone. He picked it up and smiled as he read the screen. "It's Blaine. I texted him when I got here and said I was going to look for you. He wants to know if I've found you yet."

She smiled. "You found me. Tell him I said hi."

Kurt nodded, already tapping out a reply.

"So…." she started as he put down his phone, ready to change the subject. "Roomies?"

"Definitely," he smiled. "Do you know of any good places to rent?"

"Well….." She picked up her cup again and sat back in her chair, crossing a leg beneath her. "There are tons of places for rent, but it's all so expensive and trying to find a good place is a nightmare."

"Well, what did you do over the summer, before you moved into the dorm?"

"I lucked out because I was able to sublet a room from a NYADA student who was doing summer stock in North Carolina. But she came back right before the semester started. My dads came to visit then, and helped me move out of the sublet and into the dorms. We stayed in a hotel for a few days while getting me moved."

"Lucky you didn't have to do that for more than a few days, and that your dads were here to pay for it. Speaking of which, will they help you pay to live off-campus?"

She gave him her own look over her cup. "I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question. I'm a spoiled only child and my dads are so glad I'm not married right now, they'll probably give me anything I ask for."

"Must be nice," he replied, but there was no true jealousy in it.

"I don't mean to pry, but what about you? Will you be able to afford living in New York?"

"I sold my Navigator," he answered.

"Oh no…..I thought you loved that truck."

"I did, but I wanted this more. That and the money I saved from helping my dad at the shop this summer should get me started. But I have to be careful. I'm booked into a hotel for now, and one night there is pricier than anything in the new Prada fall line. If we can't find a place to rent quickly, I might have to move to a youth hostel just to save money. And that is NOT a possibility I want to contemplate, I can promise you. But I only have a few thousand to get started here, till I can find a job, and I can't use it all on hotels."

"Well, I would say you can stay with me at the dorm, if I could offer a more sleep-friendly environment. Technically, we're not supposed to have overnight guests, but that hasn't stopped my roommate from having a different guy over every night."

"Is she really having loud sex EVERY night?"

"Every night," she confirmed. "And I have the bags under my eyes to prove it." She jabbed a finger toward her own eyes to prove her point.

"Concealer, Rachel."

"There's not enough concealer in the world. You just don't know."

"So why are you putting up with it?" he questioned. "The Rachel Berry I know would never stand for the disruption to her beauty sleep."

He was right, Rachel knew. In high school she was a force to be reckoned with, the yappy terrier that everyone would finally throw a treat or toy at, just to make her shut up. But how to explain to Kurt, who only knew that Rachel, how very small she felt here, even when absolutely certain that she belonged?

"I've asked her to not bring guys back to the room," she answered finally, "but she ignores me. I threatened to report her and she threatened to put all my sheet music through a shredder." She couldn't stop the involuntary shudder. "I just…..I don't want to make enemies here, Kurt. I've been by myself all this time. It's not like at McKinley when the New Directions would stick together and help each other out. And my dads aren't right down the road if I get in over my head."

"Well, that all changes now." He set his cup down with a quiet thunk on the wooden table and slapped his knees. "I'm here, and we'll tackle The Big Apple together, slutty roommates and all!"

She couldn't help it, she laughed with pure relief. "It's so nice to not be alone anymore," she smiled at him. "So what do you want to do? Do you want to stay in the hotel while we look for a place? Or brave my dorm room? I can't promise you'll be able to sleep through the night."

"Maybe we should do something about that," he said with a calculating look. "If we can get her to stop practicing her horizontal mambo, just long enough for us to find a place and move you out, then I can save what money I have for deposits on a rental."

"What do you have in mind?" she asked.

He grinned wickedly. "Lidocaine in her lube?"

"Kurt!" She couldn't help giggling at the sheer audacity of the suggestion.

"A website advertising her skills for a small fee?" he smirked.

"You can't be serious. You'd get us arrested!" she accused, laughing harder.

"Halfway serious about the lidocaine. But I'm sure we can come up with something. Tell me about her….does she have any allergies?"

"We can't poison her, no matter how tempted I might be at 2 am every night."

"Fine, then!" He threw up his hands. "What…_annoys_ her?"

"Well, she really hates it when I try to practice for my classes in the room. She doesn't like showtunes."

"I'm sorry? She's in NYADA and she doesn't like showtunes?"

"She's in the Drama program, not the Musical Theatre program. She thinks musicals are annoying and not 'true' acting," Rachel explained, making air quotes with her fingers.

The grin Kurt aimed at her now was mischievous enough to make her glad that she wasn't the target.

"Rachel, between the two of us we know just about every musical produced in the past 50 years. Which means," he waggled his brows, "we have all the ammo we need in a war against your showtunes-hating roommate."


	2. The Roommate War

**Although I said these drabbles wouldn't necessarily be in chronological order or be related to each other aside from the theme, this one does follow immediately after the events of Chapter One.  
**

* * *

Kurt walked into the dorm at NYADA as if he owned the place, silently daring anyone to question his right to be there. It was the same attitude that had gotten him through hard days at McKinley, and over the years he'd perfected it. He signed in as Rachel's guest and followed her to the elevators. They'd lingered over coffee through the dinner hour, ordering sandwiches and continuing to talk. Then they had to retrieve Kurt's luggage from the storage facility near Penn Station where he'd left it, so it was now well past dark.

Rachel's room on the 3rd floor was furnished with the college dorm basics: two single beds, two desks with chairs, two small closets and dressers. He didn't have to ask which side belonged to Rachel, as several of her Broadway posters from her room at home had been hung on the wall. A curtain hung down the middle of the room splitting it almost mathematically in half.

"Who hung the curtain?" he asked.

"She did," Rachel replied, rolling her eyes. "Before I even got here. I arrive to move in my things and she's already made it clear she wants nothing to do with me."

"Hmm." Kurt found a space in the floor for his suitcase and knelt to open it. "It's been a while since you and I had a sleepover," he smiled, pulling out his pajamas. "Which movie are we watching?"

Hours later, after popcorn and _Center Stage_, they were both sound asleep, crowded head-to-feet in Rachel's narrow single bed. Kurt woke to the sounds of murmurs and muffled giggles coming from the other side of the curtain. He listened for a moment to make sure he heard two voices, and it wasn't just the roommate talking on the phone. Yep, there was definitely a male and female voice there.

He tapped Rachel's leg lightly to see if she was awake. There was rustling, a light kick to his shin as she moved, and then a dim light came from the bedside table. Rachel sat up, looking bleary-eyed and resigned. 'Every night,' she mouthed at him.

'Why are you mouthing silently?' he mouthed back exaggeratedly. At her perplexed look, he spoke up in a loud voice.

"Hey Rachel…I thought you said that your roommate's doctor told her NO MORE SEX," he made sure to emphasize that phrase, "till that nasty _infection_ cleared up."

Rachel's eyes went wide, and the movements on the other side of the curtain paused. Something was whispered, too low for them to hear the words.

"No…..my roommate's just jealous that I get more action than she does," came the girl's voice clearly. "But she finally has a guy in her bed tonight, so I don't know why she's not more interested in getting busy with him than in ruining my fun!" She called this last through the curtain emphatically.

"Well, if we're not going to get any sleep, we may as well practice!" Kurt said brightly. He nodded to Rachel, who turned the lamp brighter and fiddled with the iPod in its speaker dock.

"We're going to sound awful," she complained. At least she was finally speaking at a normal volume. "Neither of us is warmed up at all."

"Fortunately for us, sounding good isn't the point," he responded. "Ready?" he asked, as she sat up straighter in bed. The opening notes came out of the speakers, and Kurt sang the opening lines as loudly as he could, considering he'd just woken up five minutes ago.

_Once in every show  
There comes a song like this_

"Are you kidding me?" the faceless guy exclaimed.

Rachel picked up the next lines, smiling widely now and exaggerating her vibrato.

_It starts off soft and low  
And ends up with a kiss _

"Just….ignore them!" answered the girl.

Grinning at each other, they sang the next lines together.

_Oh where is the song that goes like this  
Where is it?  
Where? _Kurt asked Rachel, faking a panicked look._  
Where? _She threw back at him with a melodramatic swoon, and they both started laughing.

They were in the middle of the bridge with its self-announced key change, belting as loudly as they good, before there was any more feedback from the room's other occupants.

"What? What's wrong?" the roommate asked.

"What's wrong? Really?" her date responded incredulously. "I can't do this. There's gotta be an easier lay somewhere in this city."

Kurt and Rachel had stopped singing and gave each other a high five. There was shuffling on the other side of the curtain.

"Don't go….just give me a minute and I'll shut them up." The sheet flumped inward as something was thrown against it from the other side, and a tennis shoe dropped to the floor beneath it.

"No way, I'm done." The sound of a zipper being raised was heard clearly. "Give me a call if you ever get a single room."

Light poured in from the hall briefly, then the door clicked shut behind him. An incomprehensible shriek came from the other side of the room, followed immediately by a furious redhead barging around the fabric partition, saved from nudity only by the sheet she held around her.

"You morons! I've had my eye on him since the first night I went to that bar, and you ruined it!"

"You know what I've had ruined?" Rachel retaliated. "My sleep! Every night for the past three weeks!"

"You're just jealous that I've been getting laid all along, and you've just now convinced a guy to spend the night with you."

Kurt laughed out loud. "Really? The baby blue silk pajamas didn't clue you in?"

She stared at him for a moment before snorting. "Figures," she said bitingly to Rachel. "You finally have a guy in your bed, and he's not even remotely interested in you." She turned back to Kurt. "So why are you here?"

"I'm moving here. Rachel and I are going to be roommates."

"Oh no you don't! You are NOT moving in here! It's not allowed!" She was breathing heavily and flushing to the roots of her hair.

Rachel laughed almost hysterically. "Since when do YOU care about the rules? We're not supposed to have overnight guests at all, but you've had a different guy in your bed every night!" Rachel seemed to have found her confidence again now that she had backup.

Kurt halted what looked like the beginnings of a furious tirade from the redhead by getting out of bed and stepping between her and Rachel.

Planting himself directly in front of her so that she had to acknowledge him, he said, "I'm not planning to move into the dorm, so don't get your missing panties in a twist. We're looking for a place off-campus."

Her eyes sharpened. He had her attention now. He heard Rachel moving behind him before she stepped up to his side.

"It's too late to get my money back for the room, and no one will transfer in this late in the semester. Which means, if you'll agree to let Kurt stay here, just till we can find a place-"

"And IF you'll suspend your gentleman callers for the duration, or go to their rooms for a change-" Kurt inserted.

"You can have this room all to yourself for the rest of the term," Rachel finished.

She worked her jaw back and forth for a moment before asking, "How long will it take you to find a place?"

Kurt turned to look at Rachel. "A month, maybe?"

"No way am I agreeing to a month. One week," the roommate countered.

"Two weeks," Rachel said firmly. "Final offer. And we expect you to keep your end of the deal."

"And if you don't," Kurt added, "We know lots more showtunes. We may even rewrite a few, just for you."

"Fine," she spat. "Two weeks, starting now. I'm only doing this to get the private room." With that, she turned and made what Kurt thought was a credible dramatic exit, given that she was still clothed in only a sheet.

"Maybe now we can get some sleep," Rachel muttered, turning back to her bed. She peeked at her cell phone. "I have class with the devil incarnate in four hours."

Almost a week went by, as Rachel attended classes and Kurt used his days to hunt for both a job and a place for them to live. When she was done with classes for the day, they would go to see rentals together. They started their search in midtown Manhattan, but soon realized the only way they could afford that would be if they shared a bedroom. Temporary arrangements aside, neither of them were comfortable with the idea of sharing bedroom space permanently. As Rachel pointed out, the first time Finn or Blaine came to visit, things could turn awkward very quickly. Kurt agreed and they started looking in Brooklyn and the Bronx.

They were starting to get worried about finding a place within their two week deadline. They had barely seen Rachel's roommate since that witching hour negotiation, but she had kept her word and their nights passed quietly….until the sixth night.

Kurt woke to an insistent patting on his arm. He reached out blindly from where he slept on an inflatable mattress on the floor—they'd decided after the second night that there just wasn't room for them both in a single bed. He shoved her hand away and mumbled, "Your monologue will be fine, Rachel. Go to sleep."

"Kurt!" she hissed. "Wake up!"

"What?"

"Listen!"

And once she quieted for a moment, he could hear it, the heavy breathing and rhythmic movement from just a few feet away. The realization slowly seeped into his sleep-fogged brain.

"Oh gross."

The bedside lamp came on again, and he blinked in the sudden light, focusing on her face leaning over him. "Get up, Kurt. Time to launch our counter-defensive."

"Which one?" he groaned as he pushed himself up. This inflatable mattress was not doing any favors for his back.

She looked sly all of a sudden, and reached out for her iPod. "So….." she said, raising her voice. "Do you think she's finally found her baby daddy?"

He caught on. "I'm not sure, but God knows she's been auditioning enough men for the role!"

There was a pause in the movement beyond the curtain.

The music started and Rachel stood, aiming her voice at the sheet dividing the room.

_It's the knocked-up life for you. _

_It's the knocked-up life for you._

_Rounded belly, 'stead of flat!_

_By the 4th month, you'll be fat!_

_It's the knocked-up life!_

Kurt got up and stepped close to the curtain, enunciating every word.

_You forgot to take your Pill, _

_In nine months the bills will kill. _

_Baby form'la, 'stead of beer! _

_Midnight crying, you will hear! _

_It's the knocked-up life!_

Rachel came to stand beside him. "I hope you're listening, Baby Daddy!" she yelled. "Because they'll be your bills too!" She barely got it out before their next cue. Kurt was quite proud of them, that they'd even worked out a simple harmony for this verse.

_You will miss all the days of being carefree, _

_You will miss all the nights of being wild._

_You will no longer think of only 'me, me'_

_That's what happens when you have a child!_

A recognizable screech sounded through the room.

"Hmmm…..that sounds familiar. Where do we know that sound from?" Kurt asked loudly.

"I think the last time we heard that, a guy was LEAVING!"

The door opened and closed, and Rachel turned to shut off the music. They stood there for a moment, waiting for the woman scorned to unleash her fury on them, but nothing happened. They looked at each other quizzically then stared at the curtain, waiting. Finally they shrugged and got back in bed, turning off the light. It had been silent for a few minutes when the roommate spoke, in a surprisingly neutral tone of voice.

"Have you guys looked out in Bushwick? I know someone moving out of an apartment there tomorrow. He hasn't found anyone to take over the rest of his lease."

After a shocked silence, Rachel answered for them. "I don't think we've looked out there, no."

"Can we get his number?" Kurt asked.

"I'll leave it for you in the morning."

In the semi-dark, Kurt saw Rachel extend a hand out of bed, palm raised. He returned the high five before rolling back over to sleep.

* * *

**Their first song is "The Song that Goes Like This," from _Spamalot_. If you're not familiar with it, search it on youtube, it's hilarious. The second song had re-written lyrics to the tune of "Hard-Knock Life" from _Annie_. **


	3. TKTS and Anatomy

**This drabble is set during President's Day weekend, 2012. Rachel and Kurt are in their last semester of high school and have gone to New York to visit the NYADA campus.**

* * *

Rachel stepped forward to point out one of the huge billboards to Kurt, and conveniently positioned herself on his other side so that his taller body provided a buffer from the biting February wind.

"Look, Kurt! That billboard wasn't there last time we were here!" She raised her voice to be heard above the honk of car horns, the conversations around them, and the promoters who walked up and down waving their brochures.

He turned from his inspection of the TKTS board to look where she was pointing, stomping his feet in an attempt to retain some feeling in his frozen toes.

"Yes it was, Rachel. But it's a different actor now. When we were here for Nationals, Daniel Radcliffe was playing the lead in that show. Now they've got the guy from the Jonas Brothers. Which brother is that?" he asked.

"It's Nick, I think. Who do you think is better? The actor who played Harry Potter or the singer from a boy band?"

"I don't know. Wasn't there someone else in between? Who was that?" He took a small step, backwards as he was turned to talk to her. They only moved two inches, but the staff here didn't like to see daylight between their customers. Kurt was finding that New Yorkers were oblivious to some people's need for personal space.

"Oh, I can't remember," she answered, shuffling along with him. "We're not planning to see that one anyway, right?"

"We still haven't decided, remember? We need to talk about it if you want to have a say, otherwise I'll decide for us." He took another two steps as the line inched closer to the ticket windows.

"How about we see one show this afternoon, and another show tonight!" A huge smile lit up her face as she solved their dilemma. "That way we can each pick one!"

He looked down at her from the vantage point granted him by several inches of extra height. Wow, how did she and Finn manage to kiss without one of them being really uncomfortable? He knew they managed, he'd seen them go at it often enough. It just seemed to him that Finn must have a constant ache in his back from bending down so far. His own boyfriend might be shorter, but least Blaine was close to his height.

"We can't do that, Rachel," he sighed. "I wish we could."

"But it's Saturday!" she protested. "There's a matinee and an evening performance!"

"Of course there is…..that doesn't mean we can afford to see two shows. My father gave me a very specific budget for this trip. And that budget allows for one show-not two. He threatened to cut up my credit card if I didn't stick to it."

She rolled her eyes, but admitted defeat. She'd had the same discussion with her dads.

"Do you get the feeling that our parents collaborated on laying down the rules for this trip?" she asked.

"No need for intuition when I heard my dad and Carole on the phone with your dads," he replied. "I know they collaborated."

"You'd think they didn't trust us," she complained. "It's not like we're here just to see shows, after all. Touring NYADA and going to the prospective student orientation is very important. It shows how serious we are about—"

"Move forward please, keep the line moving." One of the TKTS employees was urging them on, only his eyes visible between his hat and the thick scarf wrapped around his neck and face.

Rachel stepped forward, her instinct to always be first making her forget why she'd been standing behind Kurt, and caught the full force of a gust of wind ripping through Times Square. She gasped and shoved him back in front of her, not even attempting to be subtle about it this time.

"What are you doing?" he yelped indignantly.

"Putting you between me and that wind! I'm the girl, it's your chivalric duty to protect me from the elements."

He turned to her, putting his back to the wind, and took his gloved hands from his pockets long enough to hike his collar up higher. "I might agree to that, Rachel, if you were the damsel in distress—which you're not. And if I were trying to sleep with you, which I'm not."

"Fine," she retorted, looking up at him from under her faux-fur lined hood. "Do it because you don't want to explain my frostbitten nose to Finn. However you justify it, just stay between me and that wind!"

He leveled a condescending look at her for a moment, and she glared back, till they both gave up and started laughing.

"Come here then, if you're going to be a wimp about it." He tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her so they could share body heat. They found themselves walking sideways as the line moved forward again, reluctant to let go and be colder again.

"No offense, Kurt, because I really do appreciate your attempts to keep me warm, but…..I'm kind of wishing now that I'd been able to convince Finn to come on this trip, and that he were holding me right now. I think he's hotter than you."

"Excusez-moi?" He leaned back to look at her. "Are you really picking this moment to tell me that I'm not sexy?" He loosened his grip around her. "Well in that case…" He stepped back.

"I didn't say sexier, I meant he has more body heat!" She was laughing as she stepped back into his space, both of them taking another sideways step.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders again. "Oh, so you are admitting I'm sexier than Finn?" he goaded. "Can't wait to tell him that his girlfriend prefers me over him. In fact, maybe I'll text him right….now…." He trailed off and put one hand in his pocket where he had his iPhone.

"Don't you dare!" She smacked him on the arm, surprisingly hard for someone so tiny. "I was talking about units of body heat, that's it!"

"Well, Finn does have a lot more body to generate heat, you know. We can't all be seven feet tall."

"Oh, I'm very familiar with his body….all of it," Rachel said with a sudden change in her tone. "And I know just how _big_ he is."

He looked down at her, perplexed, then realized what that twitchy attempt at winking meant.

"Oh my God, you are not trying to discuss Finn's…" he tried to think of a word fit for public use, then hissed, "…his _anatomy_ with me! Don't go there, Rachel!"

"Well, why not?" she asked, as if asking why shouldn't they stroll in Central Park. "We're both mature adults, we're entitled to our sex lives. And we have the whole weekend together, what better time for a little girl talk?"

"I swear, Rachel. If we hadn't already been standing in this line, in the freezing cold, for two hours trying to get theatre tickets, I'd walk away right now." He glanced at the people on either side of them. The middle-aged couple behind them—Southerners by their accents—were busy discussing the merits of various shows. The two young blonde women in front of them were chattering in a foreign language that he didn't recognize.

"Why don't you want to talk about your sex life with Blaine? I mean—" she paused, looking at him closely. "You _have_ had sex with him, haven't you? Santana said you had, but—"

"Santana? Since when does she figure into this conversation? This conversation that I completely wish I was NOT having with you?"

"Oh, she apparently has this completely infallible radar for when couples are having sex, or when someone is cheating." She stepped back from their embrace to gesture with her hands. "She cornered me in the bathroom the Monday after Finn and I did it, and just told me to be more careful than Quinn had been." Rachel shrugged, as if it were perfectly normal that one of their friends had this extra sense. "And she said that you and Blaine did it too."

"I would have words with her when we get back, except I know it would be completely useless, plus I don't want to bring out scary Santana."

"Enough about Santana, tell me why you don't want to talk about you and Blaine? Was your first time awful? I've heard that happens. Or…are you afraid if we start comparing notes, he won't measure up? I mean, he is short. Not as short as me, but almost no one is. It makes sense that proportionally, he wouldn't be as big _there_ as Finn—"

"RACHEL!" Kurt shouted her name to get her attention and stop her rambling. He leaned down so he could talk more quietly into her ear. "Blaine is just as big _there_ as he needs to be, okay? Believe me, I have no complaints about that."

Her face was triumphant, presumably because she'd finally broken his resistance and he gave her a juicy detail. "So who's bigger, him or Finn?"

"Keep your voice down, Rachel!" He stayed half bent so he could be heard without speaking too loudly. "And I don't know, because I haven't seen Finn's," he said, exasperated.

"You haven't?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "But you live in the same house!"

"That doesn't mean I follow him into the bathroom when he showers," he rolled his eyes.

"But…boys use urinals, as much as I wish they didn't because those things smell disgusting." She wrinkled her nose. "I'd think if you wanted a look, you would have the opportunity eventually. Or showering in the locker room, or changing before a competition."

"And even I'm enough of a guy to understand the guy code in the bathroom. We don't stand at the urinals and check each other out, we keep our eyes on the wall. We don't look into the open shower stalls, because that's just courtesy. And especially when you're the one gay boy in a room full of straight boys. I can always feel their eyes on my back, wondering if I'm going to turn around and try to sneak a look. That's why I always take a locker in the corner, and keep my back to the room." His mood had shifted. A moment ago he was frustrated with Rachel over how inappropriate her conversation was for public. Now he was just thinking how he couldn't wait to get out of high school, and out of Ohio altogether.

"I guess I didn't think about what that's like for you," Rachel said more quietly. He almost couldn't hear her over the din of the city.

"Just like you didn't think that maybe now's not the right time or place for intimate girl talk?" he questioned.

She winced. "Yeah, like that. Sorry." She shivered suddenly.

Kurt rolled his eyes again, but fondly this time. "Come here," he said as he pulled her in again. "I'm not Finn, but maybe I can generate enough body heat to help."

She folded her arms up between them. "Definitely helping." And then she fell quiet for a moment.

Kurt let his eyes scan the billboards over the street. Phantom of the Opera, Mamma Mia, Spiderman: Turn Off the Dark, How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying…..and so many others. And it wasn't just the billboards, he could even see several theatres from where he stood. The Addams Family was playing just down that road to the left. The Lion King was two blocks behind him. West Side Story was right across the street. He started listing them off to Rachel, who had her face buried in his coat.

"Just think, Rachel, by this time next year we'll be living here. We can go to the theatre anytime we want, to see Jersey Boys, or Anything Goes, or Wicked!"

"I still think we should have tried for the lottery for seats at Wicked," Rachel grumbled. "I bet we would have gotten them."

"And I bet that we would have been competing with 50 other people for those 10 or so lottery tickets. And by the time we found out we'd lost there, we wouldn't have time to stand in line here. And we can't afford full price."

"Why are we on such a strict budget for this trip, anyway? What did our parents say to each other on the phone?"

"Keep moving, keep moving!" Another of the TKTS workers was passing by to herd them along. They were rounding the last turn in the multi-layered line, finally headed down the homestretch for the ticket windows.

"They said," Kurt said, rolling his eyes, "that we were going to be on a budget when we moved here, and this one weekend on a budget would give us a little taste of it."

They were drawing closer to the large electronic board where today's shows were listed.

"Kurt!" Rachel gasped. "We still haven't decided what we're going to see!"

"Alright, then let's get serious. What fabulous Broadway show shall we see today? We only get one, so let's make it count!"

She turned to look at the board, but immediately turned back and tugged him down to her. "FYI, when we get back to the hotel tonight, we are so having that girl talk."

While she was distracted with the show listings he pulled off his gloves to send a quick text to Finn. 'You need to call your gf tonight, and keep her on the phone for a really long time. If you don't, she and I are going to be discussing your…ANATOMY.'

* * *

**A/N-I have a short list of ideas for this series, but I'm also very willing to consider prompts. If you have an idea for a drabble, mention it in a review or send me a private message. Thanks for reading!**


	4. 151 Starr Street

**I need to give a belated thanks to gottriplets for her contribution to the previous chapter. The 'girl talk' part of "TKTS and Anatomy" was all her idea and made the chapter much better. **

* * *

"This is it, Kurt. I just know it!" Rachel bounced on the subway seat. "This will be the right apartment for us."

He didn't bother looking up from his phone as he replied, "You're just in love with the address."

"Well come on…..Starr Street? It's a sign!"

"A sign that you think anything with the word 'star' in it is meant for you."

"And you too. You're still planning to re-apply next semester, aren't you?" She stopped bouncing to sit back, and tried to look over his shoulder. "Who are you texting, anyway? Can you actually get a signal down here?"

"Yes, I'm planning to re-apply, no I don't have a signal, I'm writing an email to Blaine which I'll send when we're back above ground, and don't read over my shoulder."

"I've written to Finn dozens of times since I've been here," she said in a more subdued voice. "He hasn't answered any of my emails."

He saved the email as a draft and pocketed his phone away from her prying eyes, glancing up to check where they were. The scrolling information at the end of the car told him the next stop was Grand St. Just a couple more stops then.

"You know he's in Basic Training, right? The Army doesn't allow communication with anyone while recruits are in Basic."

"But it's been months. Wouldn't he be done by now?" The train pulled into the Grand Street station.

"I'm not sure," he said evasively as passengers got off and new ones got on. The car wasn't nearly as crowded now as it had been when they left Manhattan on the L line. They'd had to stand till Bedford Avenue, the first stop after crossing over into Brooklyn. A lot of passengers had gotten off then and they'd been able to find seats.

"But surely Finn's mom knows how to get in touch with him, in case of emergency. I tried asking her but she said she couldn't reach him either."

"Rachel." He put a hand over hers. "Stop. Don't do this to yourself. Finn let you go so you can pursue your dreams in New York. He knew this was what you wanted, and that he didn't fit into your plans."

"He didn't even try."

"Look at it this way. Would you stand in the way of him pursuing his dreams?"

"No, never…..of course I want him to have dreams and goals for himself. But do you really think the Army is his dream? I mean, he never mentioned it till the day he told me he was going, the same day he put me on the train."

"I think," he said slowly, "that Finn's dream is to honor the memory of his father, and make everyone proud of him. Joining the army is his way of trying to accomplish that."

"I suppose," she replied morosely.

He looked up and saw they were pulling into the Morgan Avenue station. "Next stop is ours, Rachel." He watched as two young men hitched large backpacks onto their shoulders and stepped out onto the platform, stopping to read the signs before heading for the exit. "They look like they're backpacking around the world. Did you see how big those backpacks were?"

She smiled, apparently getting over her temporary funk about Finn. "New York is so special that even people from other countries can't wait to visit here. And we get to live here, permanently!"

"If we can find a place to live," he reminded her. The train began to slow again as it arrived at Jefferson St, the closest stop to the address they'd been given.

"This will be the one, I know it. Though I still can't believe my roommate actually helped us out."

"She really wants that room to herself," he smirked.

They got off the train and followed the signs to the exit they'd been told would be easiest. They both squinted as they came up the steps and stopped for a moment to pull out their sunglasses.

"There's so much more sun here!" Rachel exclaimed. "I feel like we're on Sesame St."

"You think we're on a preschool show?"

She smiled and sang softly, "Sunny day, everything's a-ok….." as she reached into her purse and produced a travel bottle of sanitizer. She offered it to him after cleaning her own hands.

"Good idea," he agreed as he rubbed it in. "How many millions travel the subway every day?" He shuddered.

"I've decided it's better not to think about it," she declared. "I just apply sanitizer throughout the day, take my Vitamin C, and close my mind to it the rest of the time."

He handed the small bottle back to her, making a mental note to stop into a Duane Reade and buy one for himself. Once his eyes adjusted, he was able to take his first look at the neighborhood.

"Cue the tumbleweed rolling across the road," he remarked. "Are we still in New York at all? Where's the four-lane gridlock that we know and love to hate?"

"Everyone says that Brooklyn has more of a neighborhood feel," she commented, also surveying the virtually empty street. She pointed to the street signs. "We're on Wyckoff Street. I think if we follow it for one block that way, the next intersection should be Starr Street."

It wasn't, of course. They walked two blocks in the wrong direction, passing buildings that looked almost like warehouses. Graffiti was evident here and there, but they passed one wall where the graffiti had given way to a full-blown mural, which included flags from various countries. They backtracked to Starr St and managed to walk the correct direction on the first try, and by the time they were halfway down the block they could see a park.

"Right down there!" Rachel said excitedly. "Miguel said there was a park across the street."

A small child went gliding past them on his scooter, using one leg to push off again when he slowed, apparently headed for the park. They both turned and looked behind them at the same time, and Kurt assumed Rachel was wondering the same thing he was, whether there was an adult with the child. A Hispanic woman was pushing a stroller, coming up behind them. Though she was walking at a brisk pace, she didn't seem particularly frantic about catching up with the boy. They turned back to the front and saw he had stopped at the intersection.

"City kids are well trained," Kurt commented.

"Street savvy is what they are," she replied. "They have to be."

They continued past the little boy, who continued to wait at the curb for his mother to catch up, and crossed the street. Starr St now ran parallel to the park, which had a sign on the fence announcing it was the Maria Hernandez Park. It seemed to be quite busy with dark-haired children playing ball, riding bikes and scooters, or walking their dogs. There were also teenagers on skateboards and adult teams playing basketball.

"I have to feel good about a neighborhood that has such a nice park," Kurt commented. "But why do I have the feeling that if we move here, I'll be wishing I took Spanish at McKinley instead of French?" he asked, just as a car rolled by with its windows down and blasting music with a Latin beat. Cars and pedestrians were more plentiful on this block. Looking down toward the next intersection he could see a couple of stores with Spanish names.

Rachel had been scanning the house numbers while he took in the neighborhood.

"This is it!" she blurted loudly. She ran up the steps of the building—just like every other building in the row—except that this one had the number 151 over the steps. She scanned the names next to the door and pressed a button. "Second floor," she announced.

The speaker crackled to life and a voice told them to come on up as the door buzzed. One narrow flight of steps later, they were met on the landing by a Hispanic twenty-something whose broad shoulders stretched under his shirt.

"Are you Miguel?" Rachel asked.

"Si, that's me," he answered, holding out a hand to each of them in turn. "You ready to see the place?" At their nods he pulled a sliding door across and ushered them into a room the size of the McKinley High auditorium.

After a week of surveying Manhattan apartments that were approximately the size of the average walk-in closet, Kurt stopped on the threshold, in shock at the expanse of room he saw now. It stretched before him for what seemed like the length of a football field. He turned to look at Rachel, whose eyes were wide as she took it in.

"Is this it?" he asked Miguel, just to be sure. "This is the apartment for rent?"

"Si." Perhaps he misunderstood the expressions of amazement on both their faces, because he asked, "You did know it was unfurnished, right?" They both nodded and stepped further into the room, overwhelmed by all the space. "Maybe you want to take a few minutes to look the place over? I'm going to take a few more boxes down."

For the first time Kurt noticed the packed boxes sitting by the door. "Sure, take your time, we'll just look around."

Miguel went over to the boxes, but stopped before picking one up. "Oh, about the bikes," he pointed to two of them leaning against the wall next to the boxes. "I can't take them with me. If the next person to rent this place doesn't want them, I'll put them on the curb with the trash."

As his footsteps faded down the stairs, they looked at each other and laughed, the sound echoing out across the room.

"Oh my God, can you believe this place?" Rachel spun out into the middle of the room, executing turns one after the other. "It's the size of four NYADA dance studios!"

"We could install a dance barre along one wall so you could rehearse!" Kurt contributed.

"Oh! We could build a little stage like in my basement at home! We could put on a whole play here!" Her eyes lit up, and he could almost see her choosing which play they should perform first and what to call their off-off Broadway theatre.

"Or we could just live here. And be grateful that we can each have our own bedroom with our own personal space," he countered.

At that, they both stopped and looked at the space more carefully.

"There are no bedrooms," she whispered, deflated.

"No interior walls at all," he agreed. They both turned slowly, taking in the entire room. Several large wooden columns broke up the layout just a bit, but otherwise it was one large room with no partitions. A kitchen area with counter, sink, stove and refrigerator occupied one corner. A small room protruded out from the opposite corner, the door closed. "I really hope that's the bathroom," he said, starting toward it.

"I've heard of apartments in New York with a communal bathroom down the hall," she said nervously, right behind him.

"If that's the case here, no way." He reached it first and pulled the door open, relaxing when he saw a small bathroom with the basic shower stall, sink and toilet. He walked in, flushing the toilet and turning on the hot water in the shower.

"Everything works?" she asked from the doorway. There really wasn't space in the bathroom for two people.

"On initial inspection, yes," he answered. He looked around the tight room again and then up at her in alarm. "But there's no counter space in here! Where will we put all our beauty products?"

"Let me in," she answered, stepping back to give him room to exit. She looked around herself once she was inside. "Hmmm…..maybe we can put some kind of shelving up on the walls? Or is there space behind the mirror?" She turned to the mirror above the sink. "Oh, no way. I can't possibly use this mirror. I can't even see myself in it!"

"Maybe we can get you one of those kid stools?" he quipped from the doorway.

"I'm not talking about the height, though granted the only thing I can see is my forehead. I'm talking about how small and cloudy it is, you can't possibly approve of this." She turned to him with a pleading look.

"No, I don't." He shoved off the doorframe and turned to survey the room again. "I think we'll have to put a vanity here, just outside the bathroom. With a decent mirror, and Hollywood lighting, and plenty of space for all our various products."

"OK," she said from beside him. "That might work. And really, having it out here would be better, it will free up the bathroom for whoever else needs it."

"Everything ok in here?" Miguel asked from the doorway. "You like it?"

Kurt looked at Rachel quickly before answering, "We're still checking the place out, if that's ok?"

"Take your time," he answered easily, and lifted two more boxes from the stack by the door, disappearing again.

They stood in silence for a moment, studying the cavernous space.

"So…..bedrooms," she finally said. "What are we going to do about that? You know I love you, but a girl needs her privacy."

"So do some boys," he responded. "Especially when they're expecting their boyfriend to come for frequent visits." He walked out into the middle of the room, thinking. "We could take a cue from your roommate," he said finally. "Use these columns to hang up curtains, make cheap temporary walls that way. It's not like we can afford to build walls in here, even if we could get permission from the landlord to remodel."

"Wouldn't offer much in the way of soundproofing," she countered. "The past few weeks taught me that."

"Earplugs?" he offered, half joking. "Loud fans?"

"Or maybe we can alternate date nights, decide in advance who gets the apartment for the evening if we have company."

"Company? Not just Finn?" he asked. She looked at him over her shoulder as she meandered away, and he interpreted her gaze to say, I have a secret that I'm dying to tell, so ask me. "Do you have your eye on anyone at NYADA, Rachel?" he prompted.

"Well, there are quite a few hot guys there," she said with a lilt to her voice, leaning against a column. "A lot of them play for your side, of course, but not all. And there's one who made a point of telling me he was straight, and he wasn't wearing much at the time."

"Hold on, the guy from the shower?"

She smiled. "His name's Brody. I would never think of cheating on Finn, of course, but he hasn't been in touch with me for months and if…." She stopped, gazing off across the apartment. "If we're over, then I should be free to date who I want, right?" she finished, looking back at him resolutely.

"Yeah, you should. And it'll be Finn's loss."

She gave him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, before they both turned toward the noise at the door.

"What do you think?" Miguel asked.

"Well, we do need to talk specifics about taking over your lease, obviously." Rachel stepped forward and spoke assertively, shedding the lovesick girl from a moment ago.

"But we like it," Kurt added. "And we'd like to see what kind of arrangement we can make with you."

"Great!" He clapped his hands once. "Let me take down this last box, and we'll talk." He disappeared again.

"Did we just agree to live here?" Kurt asked in wonderment.

"I think we did," she whispered. "Our first New York apartment."

"Are we doing the right thing?" he asked. "I mean, it's not going to be the most private setup, even with curtains for walls. And we have to furnish it, and did you notice how long the subway ride from Manhattan was? It took us nearly an hour to get out here."

"But we can't afford Manhattan, and look at this place! It's big enough to—" her eyes fell on the bikes by the door, and her face lit up. "To ride bikes indoors!" She ran over and grabbed the white one, swinging her leg over and pushing off.

"Hey! Wait for me!" he affected a little kid voice and was right behind her on the black bike. They were riding in circles around the room and laughing when Miguel appeared with lease papers. This was really happening.


	5. Wikihow

"Stay away from flying and sharp objects," Rachel read out loud from the computer screen. "Do they really think they need to tell us that?" She turned to address Kurt, who was unloading bags at the folding table that they'd found for $20 at a thrift shop.

"What are you reading?" he asked, stacking up batteries next to the flashlights and candles.

"'How to Prepare for a Hurricane' on Wikihow." She left the computer and joined him at the table. They'd spent most of the morning scouring the neighborhood for storm supplies, going to several shops when it became apparent that the staple items were already selling out. She opened another bag, unpacking cans of vegetables and fruit.

"You realize that if we're relying on Wikipedia to save us from Hurricane Sandy, we're in big trouble."

"I suppose that's what I get for clicking on the first link without checking the source," she admitted. "But we're from Ohio, we've never been through a hurricane. I'm trying to gather as much information as possible. It's not only to prepare for Sandy, but also in case I ever need to play a character experiencing a hurricane."

"Ahh, but what if you're asked to play a character who's completely unprepared for a hurricane?" he asked. "Then all this research and preparation will keep you from the artistic truth you're seeking."

She looked up in alarm. "Oh no...you're right!" She couldn't believe she hadn't thought of that herself. "Kurt—what if we've over-prepared? There's no challenge in being completely prepared for a disaster, we're denying ourselves the full experience." She eyed their pile of non-perishables and other supplies. "Maybe we should get rid of some of this stuff..."

"Rachel!" he spoke sharply. "I was joking, ok? There's no way we're going to be less than prepared as we can possibly be. The meteorologists are peeing themselves over the so-called Frankenstorm headed straight for us, and you want to throw out supplies so you can prepare for a role that you _might, hypothetically_, play in the future?"

She forced herself to close her eyes and take a deep breath. She quickly took stock of the tense places in her body and deliberately relaxed them, a practice suggested by her acting coach at NYADA to achieve a state of relaxed readiness. She opened her eyes again. "Right. Storm preparation. Sorry." She gave him an embarrassed grin, then picked up candles and started distributing them around the room, trying to remember if there were any plays set during a natural disaster. No matter what her roommate said, she was sure that adding a hurricane to her life experiences would be useful at some point in her career.

They worked in silence for a few minutes, putting food away and placing candles and flashlights in key locations, so they could find a light source quickly if the power went out.

"So what other words of wisdom did Wikihow offer?" Kurt asked. "Maybe it will entertain us while we're doing all this boring stuff."

"Well, it says that canned food," she picked up a can of green beans, "are the only acceptable foods to stock up on. Then adds that we should make sure they're fresh."

"Fresh canned food? Isn't that a contradiction?" He rolled his eyes.

"It also advises...wait for it...that we should stock up on ammo before the storm."

She watched for his reaction, grinning when he stopped in the middle of inserting batteries in a large flashlight and looked up. "Excuse me? Do they think we're going to scare Sandy away with rifles?"

"I think it was meant to scare away looters after the storm," she clarified. "It even recommended that we advertise there are weapons in the house." She shook her head in disbelief.

"In this neighborhood?" he scoffed. "That would just bring a dozen people to our door ready to take them from us."

"I know! I really don't think the author of the article took local variations into account, though it did say that particular piece of advice only applied to the USA. It said you'll get arrested for following that recommendation in Canada."

"I have to see this website," he declared, crossing the room to where she'd left the laptop open. He started scrolling down the page. "Oh my God."

"Which one are you looking at?" she came to stand behind his shoulder.

"Alternative, umm, bathroom facilities if our water stays off for very long." He pointed at the screen. "It says we should dig a hole in the yard to use as a toilet. Even if we had a yard instead of a concrete sidewalk, ewww." He shuddered.

"There's always the park," she laughed, waving in the general direction of Maria Hernandez park across the street. "I'm sure we'd win lots of points with our neighbors by digging latrines there."

"And of course, during a hurricane is the best time to drop your pants outdoors and squat over a hole in the ground." He continued to scroll down the page.

"Check out the last paragraph," Rachel suggested. She waited a moment while he read.

"Didn't they try the solar still on Mythbusters? The island castaway episode?" he asked.

"That's what I thought! Didn't it take them hours just to get two swallows of drinkable water?"

"It did," he confirmed. "Not to mention, there's not much sun during a hurricane. So how is a solar still supposed to work when it's raining?"

"Even two kids from Ohio who've never seen a hurricane can do better than this site," she said, closing the laptop. "Come on, we should pack our emergency bags."

* * *

**A/N: I realized that all my 'drabbles' so far in this series were around 2,000 words, which stretches the definition of a drabble. This was my attempt at keeping a chapter under 1,000 words. **

**Scarily enough, all the 'advice' mentioned in this story really is included in the Wikihow article on preparing for a hurricane. Some of the recommendations were perfectly sensible, but there were a few that made me laugh or roll my eyes.**


	6. The Morning After

**A/N: This chapter is a follow-up of sorts to "Holding My Soul Together," which I published separately because it was a Klaine story rather than a Hummelberry story. Check my profile if you haven't read it already, and I'd love reviews if anyone's inclined. HMST was from Kurt's POV and takes place the night of The Break-Up. This drabble is from Rachel's POV and takes place the next morning. **

* * *

Madame Tibideaux had lectured the week before on the importance of taking full advantage of all their senses. To be aware of all sensations, the stimuli in the environment and how their bodies reacted to it. So even before she opened her eyes, Rachel lay in bed, cataloging her body's reactions to the empty space beside her.

She knew it was empty because she'd stretched her arm out before she was even fully awake, reaching across last night and all the endless lonely nights of the past four months. She reached for a new beginning, ready for them to talk, really talk this time. But her fingers encountered only empty sheets, gone cold already.

She closed her fist in the sheets, feeling her stomach muscles contract as she tried not to cry. Deliberate breaths in and out through the nose, feeling the exhale breeze over her chin. Eyes burning a bit even behind not-yet-opened eyelids, the echo of tears shed last night and the ones trying to escape now.

She drew her knees up, curling her cold toes into the cocoon of the blanket in an attempt to warm them. If Finn were here, she could warm her toes against his shin, the guy was like a furnace. But he wasn't, so she took note of the way her toes felt numb and stiff even under the blankets.

The apartment was too still and quiet, the kind of stillness a waking schoolchild knows will mean no school that day, because several feet of snow fell overnight and even the birds and squirrels aren't moving. Except...she strained her ears, concentrating. From the street below came the muffled sound of the occasional car passing by, people on the sidewalk talking. But it all seemed so far away and insignificant, not impacting their little world in here.

At the thought of 'their' little world, Rachel finally opened her eyes, squinting for a moment. It sounded like she was alone in the apartment. It was obvious Finn had left—she sat up and looked where his bag had sat to be sure, but it was gone. But where were Kurt and Blaine? Had they gone out? Were they perhaps talking things through right now, were they reconciling after whatever they'd fought about last night?

She felt a wave of what she took a moment to recognize and acknowledge as jealousy, imagining her friends sitting in a coffee shop talking and smiling, hands held across the table. She blinked, trying to push back the tears again, but heard the _plop_ as one fell onto the blanket.

She looked down, locating the small spot, and rubbed her finger across it, bringing her fingertip to her mouth. She was reminded of the off-Broadway show she and Kurt had gone to last week, _Emotional Creature_. The six young women of the cast were talking about societal pressure to be thin, and crazy diets, and one said that celery tasted like disappointment. She had laughed at the time, but now? She knew better. Tears tasted like disappointment, this salty drop of a bleeding heart that held all the happiness not to come.

The feeling she'd been trying not to acknowledge while studying herself, the need to visit the bathroom, increased till she could no longer ignore it. Apparently life went on even when it felt like it had ended, and her body was reminding her.

Sighing, she threw back the covers, wincing a little as she forced her stiff muscles to move. She knew she hadn't slept well last night. The ache in her lower back and kink in her neck were particularly uncomfortable. Perhaps she should do some stretches later. She slipped her feet into her slippers and stood, drawing aside the curtain that substituted for a bedroom door and looking out into the main room.

The first thing she saw was Kurt, curled up sideways in their one chair, neck bent at an awkward position and knees hanging over the armrest. She stared at him for a moment, because she'd been so sure she was alone. The apartment had that feeling that told her if she called out, no one would answer.

A few steps brought her to Kurt's side of the apartment, and the curtain that served as his bedroom door, where she peeked through to confirm that Blaine wasn't there. And then she felt—she paused a moment to identify the emotions—petty and ashamed that she'd been jealous of her roommate's imagined resolution to his relationship troubles. Just because she was unhappy this morning didn't mean he had to be, and it was immature of her to wish that for him.

She could ignore her bladder no longer and crossed to the bathroom, taking a few moments to also splash water on her face, brush her teeth, try to wash the gritty burn out of her eyes.

Feeling marginally more prepared to face this day after, she went over to where Kurt was still curled in on himself. Took a moment to study his face, seeing the evidence of tears that she'd just seen on her own face when she'd checked it in the mirror of the vanity outside their bathroom. There was an empty coffee cup on the table. She took it to the kitchen and refilled it with the already brewed coffee, getting a cup for herself, and took both back to their small living room area.

Setting Kurt's cup back on the table to let off aromatic steam, she settled herself on the couch to wait. Perhaps it was selfish of her to want Kurt to wake up so she wasn't so alone with her thoughts, but apparently this was her morning for acknowledging selfish feelings.

It only took a moment before he started to stir, opening his eyes slowly to look at her, then across the room to the pulled-aside door of his room. She sees it, the moment he realizes they're alone in the apartment. He hadn't known Blaine had left. Both their boyfriends were cowards.

She took a sip of her coffee as his eyes came back to her. She leaned forward to pick up his cup, offering it to him. He took it with a silent nod of thanks, wrapping his hands around the hot cup and breathing in the steam for a moment before drinking. She sat back on the futon, patting the space next to her in invitation. He stood, taking the one step between furniture, but before he sat he pulled the throw blanket off the back of the futon. He sat and together they arranged it over their legs before settling, cups in their laps and leaning toward each other.

She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, and decided that acknowledging her emotions was exhausting. Wouldn't it be easier to just ignore them?

* * *

**A/N: This was something of a writing exercise I assigned myself. I realized that most of my recent writing has been very dialogue heavy, so wanted to attempt writing something with no dialogue at all. **

**I'm still open to story ideas for this verse, if anyone would like to prompt me.**


	7. The Lack of Doors

**This is just one way that I imagine this conversation playing out, and I wanted to post this before tonight's episode which might totally throw my interpretation out the window. **

* * *

**From Rachel:** When you done work?

**From Kurt:** Lvng in 5. Starving.

**From Rachel:** I'll order pizza & we'll talk. Hvnt seen u much.

**From Kurt:** Thx b there soon.

She made sure the entire apartment was tidied, the laundry put away and the table set. With both of them now busier than ever, their home had started to get a bit messy, and she knew it bothered Kurt. The old Rachel would have been bothered by it as well. At her dads' house her room was always obsessively clean, but the new Rachel was too busy drinking in New York, excelling in her NYADA classes, and moving forward into her adult life. There were so much better things to do than laundry or dishes.

She'd just paid the delivery guy when she got a text from Kurt that he'd just walked out of the subway station, which meant he was two blocks away. She took one last look around the apartment and sent a text to Brody.

**From Rachel:** Wish me luck.

**From Brody:** Break a leg!

She smiled at his reply as the door slid open.

"I feel like I've performed Les Miz as a one-man show," he sighed. "Including all the numerous death scenes. Doing school and work together is exhausting." He let his bag fall to the floor and bent to carefully remove his shoes.

"Well now you can relax," Rachel smiled at him. "Come sit down, tell me all about your first week at NYADA. I hate that we're not in many of the same classes, I feel like we're always passing each other but never have time to really talk." She opened the pizza boxes and put slices on their plates.

Kurt insisted on changing clothes first, not willing to risk pizza sauce on the silk shirt he was wearing. But soon enough they were seated and telling each other stories about their week. It wasn't till the pizza was mostly gone and the conversation slowed that he looked around the apartment.

"Did you clean up, Rachel?" She nodded. "Thanks so much. I should go into the offices tomorrow to put in some more hours, which means I'll really only have Sunday off this week. Wasn't looking forward to spending my only day off doing chores around here."

"You're pushing yourself pretty hard, Kurt, between NYADA and your internship. And it's only the first week. Are you going to be able to keep this up?"

"Don't have much choice, do I?" he asked. "I used all my savings from working with my dad last summer to pay for tuition this semester. I have to keep working to pay my share of the rent."

"Since you mentioned rent-"

"Oh dear Gaga, don't tell me it's due already. It's-" He stopped and thought. "No, it can't be, we just paid it last week."

"No, no, nothing like that. I don't want you to worry, Kurt. I actually have a suggestion to help with the rent." She put on her best show smile, the one she used to win over competition judges.

"And that is?" He leaned back in his chair, stretching arms over his head and letting his legs straighten under the table.

"What if we got a third roommate? We'd be splitting the rent three ways instead of two."

"Uh, Rachel? Have you looked at where we live? We don't have another bedroom," he said, in the tone of one stating the obvious.

"I was actually thinking...that I could share my room."

She waited, and could see the moment that he figured it out.

"You want Brody to move in, don't you?"

"Well, it would help on the rent, and I'm kinda planning on him spending some nights here anyway, or I might be at his place. Doesn't really make sense for both of us to keep paying full time rent on places that we're only using half the time, does it?"

He closed up the pizza boxes and stood, taking them to the kitchen. His movements were agitated. She knew him well enough to know that he couldn't sit still when upset. He tossed the boxes next to the sink and came back to the table.

"It also doesn't make much sense to move in with a guy that you've only known for a few months, Rachel. And you've really only been dating for a few weeks!" He stacked their plates, the cheap dishes clinking against each other. "It wasn't that long ago that I was making an ice cream run to console you because he slept with your mortal enemy. Is that really the guy you want to shack up with, someone who will cheat on you without a second thought?"

"Kurt. Calm down. Brody didn't cheat on me with Cassie, because he and I weren't even together then."

"Which brings me back to my point that you've only been dating for a few weeks. How did this half-baked idea even pop into your head?" He carried the plates over to the kitchen, and she followed with their glasses.

"Well, he was supposed to come over for dinner tonight, and he did but he was an hour late because he missed the train and I was upset. He promised it wouldn't happen again and said he'd look for a place closer to me, and that's when I decided it just made more sense for him to move in here."

He turned from the sink to face her, and she didn't like his wary expression. In a careful, controlled voice he said, "You already asked him, didn't you?"

She lifted her chin defiantly. "Yes."

"Rachel!" His voice was getting higher. "I know you're into this whole carpe diem, live-like-an-artist mentality, but don't you think you should rein it in when it affects other people?"

"We share this apartment, Kurt! I have just as much right here as you do, including the right to have guys over!"

"Have them over, not ask them to move in! Don't you think you could have asked me how I felt about it? Just as a matter of courtesy?" His arms were crossed, he was glaring down at her, and again she cursed her lack of height which made it really difficult to not feel at a disadvantage in a face-to-face argument.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, then opened them again. "OK. You're right, I should have. I'm sorry. But it didn't happen that way, Kurt. It just felt right to ask him, so I did."

He didn't look mollified in the least. "And you didn't stop to think about the roommate you already have?"

Why was he being so unreasonable? She'd apologized, hadn't she? "Let me ask you something. Before you and Blaine broke up, it was your plan that he'd join us here as soon as he graduated, right? Did you plan on him moving in here?"

"Oh my God, Rachel! That is totally different!"

"How is it different?" She challenged. "Is it because you were so sure that you and Blaine were forever? Well that didn't work out so well, did it?" He stepped back, his expression already shutting down and she knew immediately she'd gone too far. "I'm sorry," she said quickly, but he was already turning away. "Kurt, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that!"

He strode across the floor to his room, spinning to face her only when he reached the curtain that divided it from their common areas.

"I have never wanted a door on my room so badly as I do right now," he spit at her, his voice shaking. "I'd really like to slam it in your face right now."

He swept aside the curtain and only a swishing sound announced its closing. But as she stood next to the stacked pizza boxes in the suddenly lonely apartment, the silence was as loud as any slammed door.


	8. Being Known

**Spoiler warning for the Diva episode, this is a reaction drabble to Diva. Apologies to the anon who hadn't seen the episode yet and pointed out the need for a spoiler warning. **

* * *

_Damn, that felt good. _

He watched the brown-nosers walk away, almost able to picture their tails between their legs, and amused himself for a moment trying to figure out which animals they'd be and what kind of tails they'd have. That one could be a weasel, and other...a scavenging hyena. He nodded to himself, pleased with his casting.

The very air felt different as he walked through the school today, brushing against his skin lightly like a warm bath, seeping into his body to relax his posture slightly, letting him breathe just that little bit easier. He hadn't realized how tightly he'd been holding himself, till he didn't have to anymore.

The continuous score of hallway conversations had modulated keys overnight. People knew who he was now. He received nods of acknowledgment and hands undulating discreetly in silent applause as he passed. Students who had never bothered to introduce themselves now congratulated him in whispered asides, kept quiet because officially, the NYADA faculty didn't know about the Midnight Madness escapades.

It had been a rough few months since he moved to New York, though he hardly realized it after surviving four years at McKinley and his entire life in Lima. His daily existence since puberty had been one of constant vigilance, meeting threatening eyes with defiant ones of his own, reminding himself each morning as he chose his outfit for the day that he would damn well wear what suited _him_, and never cower down to the pressure to 'be normal'.

Even Glee Club, which had given him his first taste of belonging to a group, had been a struggle for him most of the time. The chaotic ocean of New Directions, filling the space between the far-apart shores of sophomore year and graduation with the overwrought emotions, petty rivalries, makeups, breakups, loves, friendships, loyalties and competitions of its members, had often left him stranded on a shore, trying to stay upright as the waves came crashing upon him. Only in the rare moments that they came together, usually in performance, did he feel himself bound tightly into the bonds that unified them in all their joyful undisciplined insanity. Only then was he reminded of why he stayed in the Glee Club. In those fleeting, intangible moments, he knew he belonged.

And yet...there had still been that sinking feeling each time he was passed over for a solo, the disappointment in his friends every time they passed by as another jock menaced him. There was still the alienation of being the only boy who wanted to sing with the girls. He still sat by himself at the edge of the choir room while he defended his right to not pray to a God he didn't believe in, while his dad laid in a hospital bed fighting for his life and his friends thought they could solve his problems by singing religious songs.

Aside from moments spent performing, there were only two places he could truly feel safe to relax and be himself, or rather, two people who could make him feel that way. The first was his dad, who'd always been there for him, who knew him even when he didn't understand him. His trust in his dad was felt on a cellular level, far beyond any questioning or doubt.

And then there was Blaine, who understood him in the ways his dad couldn't. Blaine who reached into the frozen core of him and pulled him close to his own heart. While his dad had been there for him for him as far back as he could remember, it was Blaine who had represented his future.

And then he moved to New York. And in the pulse of this restless, on-the-go, ever changing metropolis, he felt more at home than he ever had anywhere else. But he lost his dad as a presence in his everyday life. And just a few weeks later, he lost Blaine entirely. Even the joy of walking down the street in his most fabulous outfit, reveling in the admiring second-takes he'd get in place of the sneers and ridicule he'd always endured, dimmed without those two anchors in his life.

NYADA had been a rough start too. It both was and was not what he expected, hoped for, dreamed of. His classes were amazing—each morning entering a school for the sole purpose of singing, dancing, acting, discussing the finest plays and musicals ever written with like-minded people—it felt like a different planet. This was school? Seriously?

And yet, even here where more people were like him than anywhere else he'd ever been, he'd had trouble finding his place. Entering mid-year hadn't helped any, and starting a semester after Rachel meant that he didn't even share many classes with his roommate and best friend. Although he felt accepted here, he also felt invisible.

Until he stood in front of his classmates, impossible to ignore in the spotlight, as he hit notes that most guys in this school could only dream of singing. Till he countered Rachel's overly-gesticulated performance—he adored the girl, but for love of Sondheim, could she not tone it down—with his own interpretation of a song he'd admired for years. Though he didn't regret the choice he'd made three years ago to lose their first diva-off, it had grated on him ever since that he hadn't shown what he could really do. That once again, he'd had to dampen his own talent and individuality so as not to stand out too much.

But no more. Not here. Not in this city, this school...he could finally let his fire burn as brightly as he'd always wanted. And even if he crashed, even if he burned to messy ashes and this moment was blown away by the winter winds...he'd had this moment. He watched the annoying sycophants walk away, and acknowledged the smile of a girl who winked at him as she passed by. Yeah, they knew who he was now. And damn, it felt good.

* * *

**Minus the A/Ns, this drabble was exactly 1,000 words long. Couldn't have done it if I'd tried.**


	9. Twice in One Day

**This is a reaction fic to "Naked." It's my headcanon for what could have been an additional scene in that episode.** **Consider this your spoiler warning, in case there are people who still haven't seen it.**

* * *

The thunk-thunk-thunk of his boots in the hallway was muffled as he hummed along with the music playing in his earbuds. Adam had recommended he check out this cast recording. He'd never paid much attention to the show before, not being a big fan of 'rock' musicals, but it was growing on him. The turning of the key in the lock wasn't much more than faraway clicks under the cast singing, _Now our bodies are the guilty ones..._

Needed to turn this off and get to work as soon as he was inside. He had a play to read for Theatre History. Pick a monologue to do in class next week. Isabelle had asked him to look through back issues of Vogue's online version and present ideas for a humorous article on regrettable trends. His mental to-do list was piling up and he felt the need to start shoveling before he got buried under an avalanche.

The door slid open and there was a disorienting moment of 20/20 blindness, seeing in too-sharp detail that which his eyes saw but his brain refused to process. It was the shriek assaulting his ears, even through the music (_pulse is gone and racing, all fits and starts_) that made him move, throwing up a barrier between himself and the unthinkable. He stared at the smooth blankness of the closed door, waiting for his heartbeat to slow, not sure what to do next.

OK. Stop and think. Try to be objective. He couldn't freak out like he had this morning.

He wanted to be supportive, he really did, and he understood that she was changing, they both were. It was impossible to be the same person in New York that you were in Lima, Ohio. This city insinuated itself into your very bones, drawing out the you that you didn't know was there, or maybe that you knew was there but were always afraid to let out. The most obnoxious of earworms whispered ad nauseum, 'you can be anything you want here, you can be free, you can re-invent yourself'. But re-invent yourself into what? (_this strange new you that you are_) He'd never anticipated, during endless hours spent daydreaming of New York, how the endless possibilities of what he could be, would feel like a constant free fall. What if you found yourself changing into something you shouldn't? What if someone you cared about was changing into something you knew she'd regret?

He straightened up and pulled the buds from his ears, turning off the iPod without looking. He stuffed it carelessly into his bag as he rapped three times on the door. It slid open on Rachel, covered modestly in a bathrobe now and looking guilty yet defiant.

"Is it safe to come in now?"

"It was safe before, Kurt." She was trying to hard to be casual and not succeeding.

"Umm, no it wasn't. May I ask what exactly you were doing?" He finally stepped in and slid the door closed behind him.

"I was just...walking around the apartment nude," she answered, not meeting his eyes. She walked away toward the kitchen, her shoulders hunched in on herself under her robe.

"And since when did we turn this place into a nudist colony?" He flung his bag down on the couch. "First Brody this morning, and now you."

She kept her back to him as she measured grounds into the coffee maker. "Brody suggested it would be good practice for me, just walk around naked for a while. Get used to being in my own skin."

"Like you haven't been living in your skin for nineteen years already." He waited, but only the clinking of coffee cups on saucers answered him. "Rachel, you screamed as soon as I opened the door. And now, you can't even look me in the eye after I saw you naked for all of half a second. What makes you think you can go topless in front of a camera crew?"

"About that," she whirled around to face him finally. "You didn't have to slam the door as if you couldn't bear the sight of me. I know girls aren't your thing, but am I really that revolting to you?"

"Rachel." He stared at her. "It wasn't- it wasn't like that. There's nothing wrong with your body, but I wasn't expecting that kind of view when I opened the door. I was caught off guard. And-" He held up a hand to waylay her response, "In addition to being my friend and roommate, have you forgotten already that you came within an inch of being my sister-in-law? There are certain people that one should never see naked, and in-laws are definitely on that list."

She studied him, arms folded and head cocked to the side, like she was trying to figure something out. "You know, Kurt—I think you just have a problem with nudity, or anyone baring any skin at all. I mean, you wear long sleeves even in the summer. You wears layers of clothes every day, and in all the time I've known you I've never seen you in less than long pants and a t-shirt, at the very least. This is after who knows how many sleepovers, and living here together for five months. Finn told me that you never even changed in front of the other Glee guys. Just because you have a problem with baring yourself, don't put your insecurities on others."

His mouth opened and closed twice while he tried to think of an response. Finally he moved to the refrigerator and took out creamer. "If we're going to have this conversation, can we at least sit down with coffee?"

In the few moments it took to get settled on their futon, he had gathered his thoughts.

"OK. You're right," he began. "I do have issues with baring myself, not just physically but emotionally too. And I do use layers of clothing as my armor against the world. I've never denied any of that."

"But Kurt...we're actors. Baring ourselves is what we do. How can we grow as artists without taking the big risks?"

Well that was the big question, wasn't it? How much risk to take, which chances could each person venture and still live with themselves? Where was the line between growing as a person and becoming someone else entirely?

"I don't know about you," he said slowly, "but I feel differently about taking risks as an actor playing a role, than I would about taking some of those same risks in my own life."

"What do you mean?" She took another sip from her steaming mug, eyes intent on his.

"Think about it...when we act we have a script to follow. We know what's going to happen, we know exactly which risks we'll have to take. We don't have that advantage in our own lives, Rachel. There's a big difference between living out loud as an actor on a stage, and applying that same philosophy to everyday living. Our characters don't have to face the consequences of their actions after the curtain goes down. We're the ones who do that."

She drew her feet up, resting her chin on her terrycloth covered knees. "I'm not sure I can separate the two. This is who I am, twenty-four seven."

"And if you do this topless scene, you'll be living with the fallout from it twenty-four seven. For the rest of your life. Are you sure you're ready for that?"

She didn't answer for a long moment, just staring off toward the other side of the apartment. He waited, mentally crossing his fingers that whatever cogs were turning in her ambitious brain, they'd click into place on a 'no'.

"I'm sure...that I'm ready to challenge myself," she said finally. "To take the big risks and make the sacrifices. I've always been ready for that. This...is just the next step," she nodded as she finished.

"It doesn't have to be." He put a hand on her arm. "There are so many challenges to choose from, so many ways to grow as an actor and a person. Are you sure this is the right course?"

She sat up, putting her cup down and standing. "I didn't move to New York, or enroll in NYADA, to play it safe," she said adamantly, though he still caught the tremor in her voice. "Moments like these are what my whole life has been leading to, all the dreaming, scheming and screaming, just like the song says. This is the moment."

He sighed, admitting defeat for now. Once she started quoting song lyrics to justify herself, it was nearly impossible to get through to her. "OK," he shrugged.

"I have to get dressed, I'm meeting Brody back at school." She strode off to her room and he sat there with his cooling coffee, thinking. He waited till the door slid closed behind her before pulling his phone from his pocket. The biting voice answered after three rings.

"Lady Hummel, to what do I owe the dubious pleasure? It's been too long since I've heard 'The Last Unicorn' ring tone that was chosen just for you."

"The Last Unicorn? Really?" he asked, wondering just how he had ended up with so many high maintenance and downright infuriating women in his life.

"Well, it was 'Like a Virgin' till I realized that you and the hobbit were getting it on. Then I had to change it. I was going to use the Powerpuff Girls theme song, but Brit picked this one instead."

"I'll make sure to change your ring tone to something just as flattering," he said drily. "But I didn't call to discuss ring tones. I'm calling because I need backup."

"Hmm. I'm listening."

"How soon could you be in New York?"

* * *

**The song Kurt's listening to at the beginning is "The Guilty Ones" from _Spring Awakening_. The one Rachel quotes from near the end is "This is the Moment" from _Jekyll and Hyde_. **

**Both my BFF (who's not a Glee fan but indulges my obsession) and gottriplets helped me brainstorm ideas for which ringtone Santana might choose for Kurt. As I finished writing, I started wondering what ringtone he'll pick for her. Anyone want to offer their ideas? **


	10. Theatre History, Interrupted

**This is a reaction fic to episode 4.18, Shooting Star. I'm assuming most readers have seen it, but if you're in a country other than the USA and it hasn't aired yet, please consider this your spoiler warning. **

* * *

Theatre history wasn't as interesting as he'd thought it would be. Perhaps it was because of the teacher, who droned in a monotone, even about things that sounded like they _should_ have been interesting. An audience riot breaking out at an 1849 performance of Macbeth? And if he'd heard correctly in between thirty second naps, the riot's cause was a debate between fans of two prominent actors about who played the title role better. That certainly put his rivalry with Rachel to shame, and should have been a good story, if not told by a man who reminded him of Professor Binns as described in the Harry Potter books.

Therefore, he always kept his iPhone out on his desk during Theatre History. He turned on the Do Not Disturb, of course, but it was right there next to his notebook where he attempted to take notes, when he could stay awake long enough. Occasionally the screen would light up with a text from someone and provide a diversion.

So when the flash of a message caught his eye and he glanced at it long enough to see Blaine's name, he smiled to himself. He kept his eyes facing front, waiting for the instructor to turn his back. It was so nice to be on friendly speaking terms with Blaine again. Even if their texts and phone conversations consisted mostly of mundane topics like what the Glee assignment was for that week or Kurt's analysis of ensembles worn on the subway during his morning commute, they were talking. His life had felt off-kilter ever since their breakup, and only now was the teeter-totter starting to balance back to level again.

The teacher turned to point at something on the map of New York City circa 1849 just as he saw another text pop up on the screen. Kurt seized his chance to swipe his finger across the screen and reveal the messages.

**From Blaine: we herd gunshita. in choir rm hidg **

** From Blaine: safe for niw bit brit & tina mot here**

Kurt stared at it, uncomprehending. Gunshita? Safe for niw? What was he- And then his stomach dropped as he understood. He picked up his phone and looked at the keyboard to be sure...i was next to o and u, a was next to s, just like they'd always been since he'd learned to use a keyboard. _We heard gunshots. In choir room hiding. Safe for now but Brittany and Tina not here. _He set his fingers on the screen to text back, not even knowing yet what he planned to type, when a new message appeared.

**From Blaine: Cant txt handa sjakg love ypu soooo mich**

Oh dear God this was real. He texted back without thinking, _love you too whats happeng? _

"Mr. Hummel, I do not allow texting during my class. Put it away."

He glanced up at Professor Binns or whatever-the-hell his name was, he couldn't remember at the moment and honestly didn't care. He picked up his books and his bag, standing.

"Emergency at home, I'll explain later but I have to go!" He walked out and knew without looking that the teacher was glaring at his back. NYADA professors had the advantage of knowing how desperately their students wanted to be here and could be as strict, as picky, and as ruthless as they wanted knowing that the percentage of students who would drop out voluntarily was low. They also considered it their duty to weed out those students who they thought couldn't make it in show business and any lapse in a student's absolute dedication counted against them. He knew he'd have to grovel for forgiveness later but it didn't matter right now. He looked down at his phone and there was a new message, he hadn't heard it or felt it vibrate, oh drat it was still on Do Not Disturb.

**From Blaine: Dont txte back meed toarau quiet ill txt you when icer**

He studied the keyboard again, trying to figure it out. Icer...over. _Don't text back need to (stay?) quiet I'll text you when over. _

Oh crap, oh crap...what now? Just wait? He turned off the Do Not Disturb, made sure the volume was as loud as it would go and scrolled back though the messages, trying to extract every last bit of information. They heard gunshots, plural if that wasn't just Blaine's shaky texting, fired at McKinley. They were in the choir room, 'they' meaning most of the Glee club based on him specifically mentioning who was not there, Brittany and Tina. Where were they? Were they safe? Was there just one shooter or more than one? It sounded like the ND members in the choir room were safe for the moment at least. Blaine loved him and requested that he not text back again. Well, he knew that Blaine was still in love with him, he'd said it often enough since the breakup, usually sandwiched in between guilty pleas for forgiveness. But this was only the second time in six months that he'd said it back.

He started to think about what that meant for them...then shelved it. He could debate with himself later about the status of their relationship, right now there was an armed intruder loose at McKinley and the entire Glee club was in danger.

Oh shit...Finn. Was he there? He quickly dialed his cell, standing in the hallway. He knew that Finn had left his position as interim coach of Glee, something about an argument between him and Mr. Schue, but just because he'd left last week didn't mean he wasn't back. People quit Glee and then returned on an almost weekly basis. He listened to the phone ring once, twice, three times, four...and then voice mail picked up. He hung up and dialed the house phone that his dad insisted on keeping even though they rarely used it. It rang several times before he hung up.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered under his breath as he dialed the shop number. "Pick up, someone, please..." His heart was beating like a hummingbird's. Was this what his dad had felt like right before his heart attack?

"Hummel Tires and Lube," his dad answered.

"Dad! Is Finn there?"

"Yeah, he's here. What's wrong, Kurt?"

His shoulders slumped in relief, and he let himself lean back against the wall.

"There's...umm..." He hadn't stopped to think how he would break this news. He took a fortifying breath and said, "You might want to turn on the TV, Dad. I got a text from Blaine that they heard...gunshots...fired at McKinley. I was worried that Finn might be there with the glee club."

Silence for a long moment, aside from the shop noise he could hear in the background on his dad's end. Someone was using a power wrench.

"What about the glee club? Where are they? Are they safe?"

"Blaine said most of them are hiding in the choir room, waiting for the all-clear. But two of them-you know Tina and Brittany, the two girls who-who taught you the Single Ladies dance?" He couldn't help the single huff of laughter that escaped him through the almost overwhelming urge to cry. The image of his dad attempting to dance alongside the girls now gave him a mixed bag of feelings. He hadn't seen them much since graduating-what if watching them perform alongside his dad was one of the last memories he had of them? "They're not there with the others, no one knows where they are," he told him shakily. The tears won at last, spilling over but he just wiped them away. "I don't know any more. Blaine asked that I not text him back, I'm waiting for him to contact me."

"Damn." Noises at the other end. "I've got the TV on now, I'll see if the local news knows anything you don't."

"Dad, can I speak to Finn? I know you said he's there but I just need to hear his voice."

He heard his dad speaking to Finn before the phone was passed over, and he exhaled again as he heard his stepbrother's voice for himself. They talked for a moment, Finn passing the bits of information he was able to glean from the news reports he was watching, but there wasn't much to tell. No one knew what was going on. Finn had just said that he would change out of his mechanic's jumpsuit and go to McKinley himself when he asked, "Does Rachel know what's going on?"

"Crap. No. At least, not that I know of. She's..." He stopped to think a moment. "I think she has ballet right now, on the next floor up."

"I'll text her."

"No! Finn, trust me, this is not news you want to hear by text. Someone should tell her in person, and besides, she'll have her phone off during class."

"Oh right."

"I'll go," he promised. "I'll pull her out of class and tell her."

"Dude, just be careful how you break it to her. You know how dramatic she gets." This from the guy who'd planned to text his ex-girlfriend with the news.

"I live with her, Finn. I know."

"Oh, right. I'm going, I'll text you when I get to McKinley."

"Thanks."

He hung up, feeling somewhat steadier now that he had a job to do. Get Rachel, tell her, then at least he'd have someone to worry with while they waited for news. Should he call Santana as well? No, not yet. He didn't want to tell her on the phone, and besides, she'd go ballistic at the news that Brittany was missing. Better to wait till they could get home to tell her in person, maybe by then they'd have more news.

He went upstairs but before going to the ballet studio, stopped in the bathroom. He just needed to take a moment. He'd try to calm himself, then maybe he could get through the next hour. He splashed water on his face, wishing that he actually believed in God.

* * *

**My apologies to those of you following this series, for how long it's gone without being updated. I really had hoped to update it on a more regular basis. But while this series has sat idle, I was working on two stories for the Glee Reverse Big Bang. _Over the Slushie Rainbow_ and _Mr. December_ are both listed in my profile if you haven't read them yet. **

**I think I'm going to do two more reaction drabbles to this episode, one from Rachel's POV and one from Santana's. But I haven't written them yet so I can't make promises. **

**Santana will probably make regular appearances in this drabble series now, since her move to New York is now canon. But I won't change the name of the series. **


	11. Pulled from Ballet Class

**This is the second of three planned reaction drabbles to episode 4.18, Shooting Star. **

* * *

"Demi plie and stretch, grand plie and stretch. Now second position. Demi plie and stretch..."

Rachel let the ballet teacher's voice fade into the background, losing herself in the familiar moves of a standard warmup at the barre. The ballet mistress who taught the beginning classes at NYADA was a kind woman in her sixties, who needed student assistants to demonstrate the skills she could no longer do herself. But despite her calm and patient method, so different from Ms. July's terrorizing techniques, she spotted any break in form and never hesitated to correct a student. Rachel both respected her and considered her class a nice respite in the middle of the day.

She was so engrossed in her rond de jambes that she didn't hear the classroom door open, or the footsteps walking up to her.

"Excuse me, but I'll have to ask you to leave this classroom."

"I'm sorry Ma'am but there's an emergency at our old high school. I need Rachel to come with me. Now." She turned, in toward the barre as was proper, to face her roommate.

"Kurt, what emergency? I can't just leave in the middle of class!" she hissed in a loud whisper. The accompanist had stopped playing, the class had come to a halt and she was conscious of everyone's eyes on them. They were done with high school, what 'emergency' could possibly be so big it could concern them? "I hope you realize that Glee gossip doesn't concern us anymore, because-"

"Rachel." He leaned close to speak softly, but the room was so quiet that his voice carried. "There were gunshots fired at McKinley."

For a moment, she couldn't breathe. She was vaguely aware of her hand being pried off the barre, Mrs. Plaine saying something, the faces of her classmates as she was steered out of the room. But they all floated by as if underwater, and she couldn't breathe, so she must be underwater too-

A door slammed down the hall and she flinched, gasping in a lungful of air. Kurt's face hovered before her, even paler than usual. She struggled to form words.

"How...how did you?"

"Blaine texted me."

"Was Finn-" she whispered.

He shook his head. "He wasn't there. I already called, he was at the shop with my dad. I don't think he's involved in Glee at all anymore. But he's headed out to McKinley to see if he can find out anything."

"Everyone else?"

He hesitated. "Most of the Glee club is in the choir room, and safe for now. They're hiding till the all-clear."

"_Most_ of them?" she asked, dread building up in her stomach. Oh dear God, who was missing? Maybe it was one of the new kids, someone she didn't know as well...but she should want them to be safe too.

"Brittany and Tina aren't in there. No one's sure where they are."

"Hold on." She could feel herself starting to hyperventilate. "Are you saying the shooter's still in the school?"

"No one knows." His eyes shone bright and he blinked rapidly. "Blaine just said they were hiding till it was safe. I texted him back once but he said not to again, they're trying to stay quiet and his hands are shaking too much to text. His last couple messages were really garbled, but I got that he'll call me when it's over."

He reached into his pocket for a handkerchief and dabbed at his eyes, making her realize that her own face was wet.

"I should get my bag, I left it in the studio, I have tissues in there-" She turned back toward the door but Kurt's hand on her arm stopped her.

"Your bag is over your shoulder, Rachel. Your teacher handed it to you as we walked out."

She looked down, surprised to find her dance bag as he said, and mopped up her face.

"I need to call Finn. I just want to hear his voice."

A sliver of a smile passed across his face. "That's what I said to my dad, when he answered the phone at the shop." She dug around in her bag for her phone. "Do you want to go sit in the student lounge?"

She shook her head as she dialed. "I can't sit down right now." She began pacing back and forth across the hall as the phone rang and then that voice, _his_ voice saying _'Hello?' _

"Finn! I'm so glad you weren't there but I'm so worried about everyone else. Are you at the school?"

_'Walking up to the school now. I had to park about a mile away because the roads are blocked off and there are all sorts of emergency vehicles here, plus I think all the parents are here.'_

She sniffled, dabbing at her nose again with the wadded tissue in her hand. "I know if I had a kid in the school, I'd be there. I mean, if I were in Ohio I'd be there for our friends, we don't know if-"

_'Hey! I see Tina! Hey Tina, over here!' _

"You do, Finn? You really see her?" She looked up at Kurt. "Finn said he saw Tina outside the school. Here, let me-" She activated the speaker phone function but had enough presence of mind to turn the volume down, knowing there were still classes being held. It was bad enough that she'd walked out in the middle of ballet class, she didn't need the ire of nearby teachers for disrupting class from the hall.

_'Yeah, that's definitely her, she looks ok but I can't get to her, there's like a gazillion people between us. I don't think she's seen me yet.'_

"Finn, it's Kurt, you're on speakerphone. Do you see Brittany?"

_'Not yet but I'll keep looking.' _

"This is one of those times when we're all going to be glad you're really tall." Rachel smiled in spite of the circumstances, then sniffled. "You can see over everyone else, and find them."

_'Hey Rach I'm gonna hang up cause it's hard to hear you over this crowd. I'm gonna try to get over to Tina. I'll call you back as soon as I can, I promise.'_

"OK, I love you Finn."

There was a pause, long enough to make her wonder if he'd already hung up. _'Love you too.'_

A press of a button and he was gone. She looked up at Kurt.

"Am I stupid for saying 'I love you' to someone I broke up with months ago?"

"No." He slumped back against the wall. "Blaine and I said it too. Over text, but still."

She leaned back against the wall too, suddenly very drained, and leaned her head against his shoulder. What else could they do now, but wait? She'd never felt so in limbo, not even when waiting for her acceptance letter from NYADA. She should be committing all these feelings to sense memory. What if one day she needed to play a character who'd just gotten awful news but couldn't do anything about it? Santana always made fun of her when she talked like this, but-

"Santana!" She bolted upright. "Does she know? Oh my God, we have to tell her!" He was already shaking his head.

"I thought of that but I don't want to tell her on the phone."

"Right, so we have to go home then." It was the obvious course of action, right?

"I can't get on the subway, Rachel. Not till I hear from Blaine. You know there's no signal down there. What if he texts or calls and I don't answer?"

"Right." She conceded his point, but. "We have to let her know, Kurt. She'd want to know that Brittany and the rest of Glee is in danger. So we'll take a taxi, and stay above ground. I know we said taxis are too expensive, but in this case-"

He nodded agreement. "Extenuating circumstances."

"Just give me one minute to change," she told him, realizing she was still in her tights, leotard, and ballet slippers. She could probably walk down the street just like this and not attract even a second glance from jaded New Yorkers, but she'd rather not.

She left him leaning against the wall staring at his phone, and pulled out her own as she hurried into the girls' locker room. "K & I headed home to tell San. Plz call immed if you learn anythg." She stabbed at the send button and stripped out of her leotard.

* * *

**I wanted to have this up yesterday but a silly thing called WORK kept getting in the way. I plan to do one more reaction drabble to the Shooting Star episode, which will be from Santana's POV. I've never tried getting into her head before, so that should be interesting. **


	12. A Little Bit

**Reaction drabble to last week's episode, Sweet Dreams. This is my head canon for what might have happened between these two characters after their duet. I wanted to get this posted before tonight's new episode, and I'm just barely under the wire. I need to get better about posting reaction fics right after the episode, don't I? **

* * *

The spoon went round and round as she stirred slowly, trying to prolong the ritual of coffee preparation as long as possible. Another sugar, maybe? No, she didn't need any more sugar, or the caffeine for that matter. She was already as tightly strung as a newly-tuned piano, one pluck of her emotions and the resulting vibration would echo through her. She fumbled the spoon as she set it down, flinching as it clattered against the tabletop.

"Rachel."

She looked up into those eyes, that face so like her own. Was she looking at her own face twenty-odd years in the future? She suddenly wondered what Shelby looked like in her baby pictures. If pictures of them at the same age were placed side by side, would the resemblance be as pronounced as now? And if one day she had a daughter of her own, would that little girl look like the both of them?

"Rachel, you asked me here. You said you needed to talk about something. What's going on?" Shelby leaned forward, her eyes intent.

"I-" How to begin? She reminded herself to breathe. "I went through something a while back, and it wasn't till it was over that it really hit me, that I don't really have many people in my life that I can talk to about things like this..."

Shelby waited a moment, but finally prompted, "Like what?"

She opened her mouth to say it, but what came out was, "I'm sorry, I don't know what I was thinking." She grabbed her phone off the table and threw it in her bag, scooting out of the booth. "You're not my mom. I mean, you are, you're my birth mother, but you're not my _mom_. And you don't have any obligation to listen to my problems, I'll just-"

"Rachel." A hand on her arm stopped her. "You're right, I'm not your mom. But I'm not here out of obligation either. I'm here because I want to know you better, I want us to spend time together. If you want. And I'd like to help you if I can."

She hesitated, but the story was ready to spill out of her, had been on the verge of coming out for weeks but there hadn't been anyone to tell it to. It never would have occurred to her to seek out her birth mother for this, but she was here now, right across from her.

"I thought I was pregnant," she blurted. Dishes and cutlery rattled and clinked in the kitchen while she waited for Shelby's reaction.

The woman's face remained impassive. Poker Face, Rachel thought in an abstract way.

"Thought you were," she responded eventually. "So it was a false alarm?"

"Yes. But- I've never- I've never been so worried or stressed in my life," she finally managed to finish. "Till I found out that it wasn't true, then I was so relieved, but in those two weeks before I went to the doctor I really got thinking."

"About?"

"My future. If I really had a baby now, would I give up all my dreams for it? And that made me think about you, and what you gave up for your career." She dropped her gaze to the worn tabletop. "But the situation's a little different, isn't it? Because you got pregnant on purpose, knowing that you would give the baby away-give _me_ away. And you were doing it _for_ your career, for...the money."

"Yes. I did." A simple admission, confirming the facts. Rachel sneaked a look and found her still controlling her features. "What is it you want to know, Rachel?"

"I don't know," she admitted finally.

"Why me? You said you don't have people you can talk to about this. I thought you had a roommate here in New York, or what about your boyfriend?"

"I never told him," she said quietly, looking down at the table again. "At first I was holding off because I wanted to be sure, but then I found out that he wasn't who I thought he was. We broke up soon after I went to the doctor, but not because of the maybe-baby. He never knew."

"And your roommate?"

"I have two roommates now, and one of them-Santana-she was the only one I told. She was supportive, and went to the doctor with me, but. I don't know. She and I never became close in high school till right before we graduated, and there's always been this competition between us, and just-" Rachel shrugged, unable to articulate the complicated relationship she had with Santana. "She wasn't exactly a shoulder I could cry on.

"And Kurt's a great friend, but I don't expect him to relate to this. Not only is he a guy, but he's gay. The chances of him ever even knowing what it's like to get a girl pregnant by accident are slim to none. So how could he relate?" She picked up her spoon again, stirring her coffee just for something to do. "I thought of Finn, my high school boyfriend. I know he'd want to be there for me, but how do you tell your ex that you're pregnant by another guy, especially one that he hates?" She looked up at her future self. "Are you ever in contact with Quinn?"

Shelby didn't seem perturbed by the sudden change of topic.

"Occasionally. I send her pictures of Beth, email her with updates on her milestones. She came from Boston to visit Beth one weekend."

"She did? I didn't know she came to town...anyway, I thought of calling her too. She's the only one of my friends who knows what it's like to be pregnant, to have to decide whether to keep the baby. But I didn't want to dredge up any messy feelings for her. She seems to have moved on."

"I wouldn't presume to speak for Quinn, but I can tell you...you never move on from having a baby. Not completely. Doesn't matter if you raise the baby yourself or give it to someone else. It's not something you get over."

"Does that mean..." She almost didn't say it out loud, but pushed through. "That you never got over me?"

"Never. Not for a minute, Rachel." She reached across to take her hand. "I moved to New York after you were born, and I thought the distance would keep me from looking for you everywhere I went, but it didn't matter. Every little girl on a playground or in a store, who looked even a little like my baby pictures, could have been you. I looked for you everywhere, Rachel. I wondered how you were doing, I wished I could see you...but I knew I couldn't."

"My dads told me," she confessed. "After we met that first time-I saw you sing Funny Girl, remember?"

Shelby smiled, recognizing the coincidence. "I remember. I'll never forget that day."

"I went home and told them about you, and asked why they never told me you lived so close, and why would they keep that from me? They said that you signed an agreement not to seek me out. They felt it was better for me if I never knew you. I felt betrayed."

"They thought they were doing what was best for you. And I agreed to it, because I really thought it would be better for me too. Just make a clean break. But I didn't know, Rachel. I didn't know how impossible it would be to forget you. When we met, even though it was stressful in different ways...I was so relieved that at least you knew me." She gave her hand a light squeeze.

Rachel smiled, feeling those thrumming piano strings finally still. Shelby's-her mother's-hand on hers felt like a pianist's fingers resting lightly on the keys, not moving yet, but ready to play.

"I'm glad we met too." She squeezed back, then her phone beeped next to her. "I have to go," she said regretfully, withdrawing her hand. "That's the reminder I set to make sure I get back to class on time." She turned the alarm off and picked up her bag.

"Before you go...Rachel, we live in the same city now. You have my number. Please call me if you need anything, even just someone to talk to. I'd like to be that person for you, to be like-" She stopped, as if afraid she'd said too much.

"A little bit like a mom?" Rachel asked, perched on the edge of her seat.

"A little bit. If that would be okay?"

She stood and came around to Shelby's side of the booth, leaning down to give her a hug. "I'd like that."


	13. Recalculating

**And Santana finally makes an appearance in my Big Apple series! I've been trying to write her in for a while, but for one reason or another, it just didn't work out till now. This drabble is partially a reaction fic to episode 4.20, Lights Out, but also doubles as a delayed reaction fic to episode 4.18, Shooting Star. I said before that I wanted to do three reactions to 4.18, one each from Kurt's, Rachel's, and Santana's points of view. Well, this is Santana's. **

* * *

The phone on the other end rang once, twice...she let it keep ringing because she knew that sometimes Brit would mistake the ringing of her phone for the bell to change classes and start wandering to her next class, even if she wasn't at school. After six rings it went to voice mail and she heard her own voice.

_Hi, you've reached the voice mail of Brittany S. Pierce, who is no relation to Britney Spears because she's much more awesome than that has-been. Don't bother leaving a message because Brit can't figure out how to check it. You'll do better to call back later or track her down in person. _

Santana couldn't help smiling, remembering the day she'd recorded that for her. Back when they were still together. She let her phone fall to her lap and looked across the expanse of the huge apartment. She had the place to herself for a while, maybe she could push the furniture to the walls and put on some sexy music, practice her moves for her shift at the bar tonight. She could look for whatever new hiding spots her roommates had started using, see if she could find more juicy secrets. Or maybe she should get out of here, go do the tourist thing like Berry and Lady Hummel. They'd invited her along but she'd only rolled her eyes at them. They'd gotten enough together time at that charity event last night. And it wasn't like she really wanted to hang out with them after their nosy-ass lecture on wasting her life. What business was it of theirs anyway? As long as she paid her part of the rent-

Her phone rang and she grabbed for it, cursing when it fell off her lap and slid across the floor. She got hold of it finally and stayed seated on the floor, thankful for her roommates' neat-freak tendencies. Not that she'd ever tell them that.

"Hello?"

"Santana? Lord Tubbington told me you called."

She tamped down her automatic sarcastic response, saying instead, "Give him a thank you rub from me. How are you?"

"Good. Well, I forgot to go to school last week, but I think it was for the best because the lights went out at McKinley. Sam told me they did unplugged week in Glee."

"You and Sam are still dating?" she asked carefully, trying to sound neutral. She was the one who broke up with Brit, and moved to New York. She couldn't complain that her girlfriend-well, former girlfriend-had moved on. "How are things going with you two?"

"Great. But...you don't really like talking about me and Sam. What's going on?"

She sighed, dropping the polite pretense. She never had to pretend with Brit, that was one of the reasons she loved her and missed her so much. She picked at the peeling polish on her toenails as she answered.

"My roommates ganged up on me a couple days ago, and accused me of wasting my life. And it really pissed me off, because it's my life, I can waste it if I want!"

"But you don't want that."

"No. I just haven't figured out what I want to do yet. But they were being all nosy and pushy as hell, talking about me signing up for dance classes at their lame-ass school."

"What would be wrong with that? You're an amazing dancer."

"I'm not them, Brit. If I wanted to go to their school, I'd've auditioned. And you can believe that I wouldn't have choked at my audition and had to stalk anyone, and I wouldn't have had to audition twice either. I'd have gotten in. The first time."

"Yeah, you would."

She uncrossed her legs, stretching out in a straddle position and leaning forward on her elbows. Oh yeah, she needed to stretch.

"But that's not what I want," she said as she pointed and flexed her toes. "I don't know what I want really, but it took Kurt's boss Isabelle-who is pretty freakin' awesome, by the way-saying that it's okay to take some time to figure things out, before they finally backed off."

"That was cool of her."

"Yeah, it was. And she's right. Why should I feel pressured to have my whole life mapped out? Why can't I take some time to figure things out? Isabelle's right, I have plenty of time." There was a long pause from the other end. "Brit?"

"I'm still here."

"What are you thinking?" Sometimes you had to ask, she wouldn't volunteer it.

"Just...it's ok to take some time, Santana. And no one's saying you should map out your whole life, but-" She heard her take a breath. "Don't wait forever either."

She sat back up abruptly.

"I can't believe you're siding with Rachel and Kurt," she said, holding back her ire only because it was Brit. "I don't need this lecture from you, too."

"I'm not telling you to do anything, San. Sign up for dance classes or find something else, or don't do anything. But you never know when you'll find yourself in a bathroom stall, standing on the toilet seat terrified that you'll fall in, not knowing if someone's going to come in and start shooting."

For a moment, she just breathed, afraid of opening her mouth and letting the wrong thing out. _Don't be a bitch right now, Lopez. _She'd talked to Brit right after the scare at McKinley, but only for a moment, there was so much going on in the choir room and she knew she needed to call her parents, and then word got out that there was no shooter. So she thought everyone was ok, she really did.

"Brittany-"

"And you'll stand there till your legs and your back hurt and you'll think about all the things you'll regret if that shooter does come in."

She heard a sniffle and couldn't stand it, oh god.

"Brittany, I'm sorry, please don't cry. I didn't mean to make you remember all that." She wiped her own eyes and took the phone from her ear, hitting the speaker so she could keep talking as she brought up her contacts. "All that's over, and it wasn't a shooter loose in the school, remember? Coach Sue just dropped her gun while she was cleaning it, you know that." She scrolled down to Trouty Mouth and typed out, _go 2 Brit she needs hug._

Only for her would she swallow her pride like this.

"I know now. But I didn't then. And I was so scared, Santana."

"I know, I know. I talked to you right after, remember? I could hear how upset you were." She had to brace herself to admit this next part out loud, because it grated on her to say it. "I'm glad Sam was there for you that day."

"What did you say to Sam? When you asked me to hand the phone to him?"

A message flashed on her phone screen. _Wuz alredy on way. 5 min._

"I told him...thank you. I thanked him for looking out for you, because you said he was the one who made Mr. Schue go get you. And he was there to hold you, when I wasn't. I was just so glad that you weren't alone. I wish I could've been there for you."

"I don't."

The words stung but she reminded herself that Brit never _meant_ to hurt anyone. Sometimes she just said the wrong thing.

"I know," she answered slowly, trying not to let her hurt show in her voice. "We're not together anymore, and I know you've moved on."

"No, not that...Santana, I just meant that I didn't want you here because then I'd have been scared for you too. And that would be even worse than being scared for myself."

Santana laughed, wiping away more tears at the same time. "You wouldn't have to be scared for me, you know that. If I'd been there I'd've gone all Lima Heights Adjacent on that shooter's ass. Except there wasn't a shooter. So it was all okay."

"Yeah. And you'll be ok too. You're just recalculating your route, that's all, like that invisible person who lives in my car is always saying. Maybe you missed a turn, but you'll get where you're going."

"Of course I will. I'm just that fabulous." She tossed her hair as she said it. Who cared if there was no one here to see it? The attitude that went with the hair toss still showed in her voice.

"Way too fabulous not to let other people see it." It sounded like she was smiling now. Good. "That's why you went to New York, right? Because Lima just wasn't big enough for you."

"Damn right."

"So...promise me you'll get out there, and look for your dream. Whatever it is. Go out there and kick New York's butt."

"I will." Almost laughing now, because she'd never figured out how Brit could be so dim and so bright at the same time, but talking to her was never boring.

"I have to go, Sam's at the door. I forgot he was coming over."

"OK. Tell Trouty Mouth I said hi, ok?"

"I will, bye Santana."

"Bye."

She ended the call and got up from the floor, which had started to hurt her butt after the first few minutes. She wandered to the window to look out, then impulsively lifted her phone again to dial.

"Yo, Berry...where are you? I think I might come and join you two after all. It'd be a crime to deprive Manhattan of my fantastic self on a gorgeous day like this."

* * *

**Many thanks to gottriplets for beta assistance!**


	14. The Kurtana Pact

**I'm now on Tumblr as well. Same username over there and the link is in my profile, so come over and say hi. **

**In episode 4.16 (Feud), Rachel and Kurt ask Santana to move out of the apartment. At the beginning of the next episode Guilty Pleasures, she's moving back in and the only explanation we're given is a quick reference to a 'pact' between her and Kurt. Did anyone else wonder what happened in between?**

* * *

The canned laughter soundtrack became a kind of white noise late at night. Probably not what the network suits intended, but when you've seen every Facts of Life episode multiple times and your dance teacher wore you out that day, well...he didn't think he could be blamed for dozing off. Especially since the apartment was so much quieter and more relaxed tonight with Santana gone. He might have slept in front of the TV all night if their couch was more comfortable. Since it wasn't, he was only dozing when his phone vibrated.

From Finn: _meet me strbcks_

He gazed at the screen blearily. He needed to get to bed, and Finn was either drunk and forgot he'd moved to New York, or maybe his doofus step-brother had meant to text someone else. He texted back, _wrng # this Kurt_.

From Finn: _not wrng # meet me asap dont tell rach_.

He read it twice to be sure he understood, then tiptoed over to peek through Rachel's curtain. Her light was off and in the dim light from the window she seemed to be asleep. Kurt quietly picked up a jacket and stepped into the hall before dialing Finn's number.

_"Hey dude." _

"Finn. First, do you know what time it is? Second, what the hell are you doing in New York, and third, do you have any idea how many Starbucks there are in the five boroughs?"

It took over thirty minutes to get to the all-night Starbucks in lower Manhattan where Finn was waiting, thirty minutes to wonder what this was all about. It wasn't about his dad, or Carole, or Blaine. He'd asked those questions already, so Kurt was still confused as he pushed the door open and looked around. Finn wasn't hard to spot as the place was nearly empty. The city may not ever sleep, but it did slow down occasionally. In this particular neighborhood most people were in bed or at least on their way there, like he wished he was right now. But the startling appearance of Finn, here where he was so ill-suited, said this was important. He hunched over his coffee cup at a tiny table that barely had room for his elbows to splay out, his legs extending under the table and feet protruding from the other side. He looked up when Kurt said his name.

"Holy shit, what happened to your face? Did you get mugged?"

Finn reached up, probing lightly at the reddish swelling under his left eye.

"Brody," he answered briefly. "But he looks worse, trust me."

Kurt didn't know which question to ask first, finally going with, "Hold that thought. Sounds like I'm going to need a coffee of my own for this conversation." He went up to the counter and ordered himself a decaf, asking for a bag of ice as well. "Put that on it," he said to Finn as he returned to the table. "OK, so tell me."

"Got a call from Santana." Finn hissed as he carefully pressed the ice against his face. "She wouldn't tell me what was going on, but said I had to come to New York and defend Rachel's honor or something."

"Hold on, hold on. You're here because Santana said jump?" He eyed his brother in disbelief, because that was a pretty dumb move even for him. "Finn, she's mad because we threw her out of the apartment. She made a scene at our school, made accusations against Brody, so we told her to leave. This is her revenge against Brody, apparently...though I'm surprised she didn't just fight him herself. She could maim and scar with those nails of hers."

Finn lowered the ice pack, glaring back at him, which normally wouldn't be effective at all because his version of a bitch face had nothing on his own, which he knew because he'd practiced in the mirror. But the darkening bruise under Finn's eye helped to give his look credibility. _I've already been in one fight tonight, don't mess with me_, was the message.

"Will you let me finish the story?"

A sarcastic wave of the hand gave Finn the stage.

"Look, she paid for my plane ticket, ok? When she called me she'd already booked it. So that sorta made it sound like something serious."

"OK, I'm listening," he conceded. "Keep that ice on your face."

"When my plane landed she'd already texted me an address and room number and told me to meet her at a hotel."

"Rather sleazy sounding."

"Aww man, you don't know how sleazy it sounded before it was done. I get there, she won't even say hello to me before she's dialing a number, tells the person on the other end that she's confirming the escort she booked, and she was talking all weird, using a freaky accent."

"She said escort?" Cash...pager...odd work hours...Kurt curled his fingers around his cup, leaning forward despite himself. "Then what?"

Finn dropped the ice pack to the table, sighing. He felt the bruise again and flinched.

"Finn! What happened next?"

"Well I was freaked out because it sounded like she was calling some guy over to have sex, and I didn't think she even slept with guys anymore, and what did this have to do with Rachel? But she wouldn't answer my questions, she just shoved me in the bathroom and told me to stay quiet and wait for the punchline."

"And?" It was pretty obvious where this was heading, but oh god if Rachel found out...

"And Brody comes in. Brody! And I hear him say that she can't tell Rachel, and he's not proud of it, and a bunch of other bull. I kinda stopped listening, I just went out there and told him to stay away from Rachel."

"And uh...how did-" He gestured to Finn's face. "_That_ happen?"

"He was having a little trouble understanding English, so I tried another language." He held up his clenched fist.

Kurt slumped back in his chair and after a moment of quiet amazement, shook his head. "I'm not sure whether to be more impressed or terrified at the lengths to which you both went."

"Instead of impressed _or_ terrified, how about grateful? I got rid of Gigolo Ken for you." Santana strode up in her heels, pulling a chair from the next table and sitting down primly with her legs crossed. He rolled his eyes at her.

"I can't say I'll be sorry to see Brody go, espcially now that I know how he was bringing in all that cash." He shuddered. "But don't either of you think that Rachel should have some say in this?"

"Dude, you think she _wants_ to date someone who sleeps with other women for money?" Finn retorted. He slapped the table so hard that it rocked. Kurt caught his coffee as it sloshed.

"No, Finn. That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying it's her life, her relationship, and it seems like everyone but her is running it for her."

"Well, that's just so easily solved." Santana pulled her phone from her cleavage. "I'll call her right now, tell her about her whoring boyfriend, and when he comes to get his things she can beg him to stay if her self-esteem is really that low."

"No!" He reached out to lower her phone. "Santana, you can't tell her now. She has a Broadway audition in less than two weeks, you can't tell her news like this, it will shatter her."

She lowered her phone, smirking. "Now who's making decisions for her?"

"I'm trying to protect her!" he stated firmly. "She's my best friend and I care about her."

"Did you ever think that maybe I care too? That maybe I tried so hard to prove I was right about Brody, not because I'm a self-righteous bitch who can't admit she's wrong, but because it was killing me to see a friend of mine be lied to and used like that?"

"It's different, Santana."

"I fail to see how."

They glared at each other till eventually Finn cleared his throat. "Uh, guys...if I get a vote, I don't think you should tell Rachel either."

"Fine." Santana sat back and crossed her arms. "Then you know how to buy my silence."

Finn shifted in his seat, suddenly very interested in his coffee which had to be cold by now.

"What do you want, Santana?" Kurt asked, out of patience. It was way past midnight, he was going to be dead on his feet tomorrow during classes, and he'd really had enough drama for one night.

She looked deliberately at Finn, who hunched further in on himself.

"She wants to move back in," he finally muttered. "She said since she flew me here and all that, I have to convince you to let her back in the apartment."

"You couldn't have just asked?" Kurt said to her. "Does every interaction with you have to be some kind of power play?"

She shrugged. "Never hurts to have leverage."

He tapped his fingers on the table, thinking. Though her methods still strained credulity (and really, why was he still suprised by Santana after all these years?) he was personally glad she'd gotten rid of Brody for them. Rachel would be hurt at first but she'd be better off in the long run. The immediate problem was getting Santana back in with a minimum of drama. He eyed her.

"Can you pay rent?"

"With the money my mom gave me, I could pay rent by myself on a swank apartment in the Upper East Side. That fact that I _want_ to live out in Brooklyn with the two of you, should tell you how I feel about you both." For once she wasn't being sarcastic or mocking.

"Ok then. Here's _my_ leverage. You want back in the apartment and I know how to convince Rachel to let you move in. But you have to promise that you won't tell her about Brody."

"You do realize she'll have to know eventually, right?" Finn asked. "I mean, do you really think Rachel's going to let it go? She's going to want to know why he left her. And I think that it'll be for her own good. Better for her to know."

"Fine. But _after_ her Funny Girl audition." Kurt gritted out. "Neither of you realize what a big deal this is. If she gets thrown off her game right before her first Broadway audition, she'll regret it forever."

"Deal."

"You'll have to give me some time to talk to Rachel. Do you have a place to stay tonight?"

"The hotel room I booked for Finn to beat up Brody is paid for. I'll stay there tonight."

"Fine. So go there, or go do whatever it is that minions of Satan do after midnight. But I want a few minutes with my brother."

She tucked her phone back in her bra and stood, smoothing her skirt down. "Just don't let him miss his flight. It's at 2:30 am from JFK and I'm not paying for another one."

Kurt looked at his phone. Since it wasn't exactly rush hour, if he got Finn into a cab within fifteen minutes it should be fine. He waited till the door closed behind Santana and she passed by, blowing them a kiss through the window, smiling widely now that she'd gotten her way.

"So..." He turned back to Finn. "We only have a few minutes, tell me how things are at home."


End file.
